TB (the boy) just finished eating. The girls have been asleep for some time now. My sister is... who knows, (I think computering)... and all is quiet. As I lay back on my bed all I hear is the fan (well and the annoying sound of the downstairs fan, but for the sake of this post I will ignore that). Everything is quiet.
I love these quiet hours! I sit here and think of all the things I should be doing. Then I think of all the things I want to be doing. I've caught a second wind and I, though I've spent all day dreaming of sleep, have no desire to sleep. Oh, but to lay here, in the quiet hours!
Tonight in my quiet hours, I feel peace. TLOML (the love of my life) will be home soon. We survived the first three (incredibly difficult) months of breastfeeding. We've survived all the sleepless nights. We've survived the miles of separation, the lonely holidays, the homesickness, the everyday schedules. We've survived almost a year of deployment. The end is in sight. Close enough to taste. And I, rather than overflowing with exclamations and extreme excitement (lucky for you!!!!!!), lie calmly in bed basking in this wonderful envelope of peace. As much as I will love having my husband home, I am going to miss spending these quiet hours alone.
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