The Salad Days

Last summer was glorious. Other than Soldier Boy's month-long training at NTC, we were together and did many things. I took a million pictures and tried to soak up every last moment of joy. We were blessed, and I knew those days were numbered. A lot of times people who experience trauma or tragedy tend to regret not appreciating what they had before the loss. I can say with absolute confidence that I have no such regret. For years I have worked on being mindful and having gratitude. Even during the deployment I tried to enjoy the beauty of every moment. And even now--we could still be in the salad days, for all we know.

Even so, I am weary. I find myself longing for those easy days, even for our bickering, and for the things about him that made me crazy. We have both changed so much throughout all of this, and not just in the ways you would expect. He quit chewing tobacco. I've been wanting him to do this since we first met. Now he chews gum. I fucking hate tobacco but every time I am at the store and see the tobacco counter I feel this sharp pain in my gut. The gum-chewing drives me crazy, too, but at least it won't kill him. I hope. He also never finishes his coffee. It's the damndest thing. We used to have to make more than one pot a day and now he never finishes his first cup. I still haven't figured out the right amount to make so that I don't have any left over at the end of the day.

(Jorge the catio lizard has just joined me while I am writing outside, listening to the birds. I love Jorge.)

Another thing that is different is that I have to sleep on his left side because of how the bigass frame on his right leg has to be while we're in the bed. I've always slept on his right and I don't sleep as well on the other side. Cuddling is awkward and uncomfortable.

For years I have wanted SB to sit on the porch with me. I find it relaxing to sit outside and drink coffee or wine or whatnot. I like to read a book or converse or doodle or any number of things. He has refused to sit with me the whole time--he doesn't like to sweat, he doesn't like the bugs, he doesn't want to be outside, etc. Now he drinks coffee with me out here on the weekend mornings. I LOVE it. I want it to continue. It is still very strange.

The only weird thing I've noticed about me is that I can touch raw meat now. Anyone who has ever watched me cook before is amused by this change, as I have gone to great lengths not to touch food for most of my life. I don't mind touching raw vegetables but never meat, and never sauce, or anything sticky. After caring for SB's wounds, I am able to touch anything.

I feel so strange, like I don't really know myself anymore. I feel naked and exposed any time I'm alone and away from home. Interactions with other people are awkward and strained. My soul feels like it is pouring out of my eyes so making direct eye contact with anyone is anxiety-inducing.

I want to go sit by the ocean in a rocking chair on a porch and not talk to anyone for a while. These may still be our salad days but it is hard to enjoy them when there is so much heaviness in my heart.