Foolish Excitement

Having a bad morning means your day can only get better from there, right?

School testing dates have been a mess, I feel like I might be getting sick, and then I got a call from Dan this morning. He's had a few hiccups in his flights, but hopes that he'll still make his final flight and be home the same time he's scheduled to be. Right now he's stuck on a base that's hard to get out of, but at least he's comfortable - he's got couches, cots, free Internet, and phone usage for 30 minutes at a time.

When he told me I'm not allowed to pick him up at LAX Monday morning I lost it. I've been fine - haven't cried in probably a week, maybe even more. It's dumb, I get to see him either way. What's a few hours when you've waited months and months? But, I lost it. For the past few months I've had an image in my head - an airport scene. Dan getting off the plan, us rushing to greet each other. Now it'll be him, two other people, and a van driving back to the Port Hueneme base. I've got to wait for him to call and say he's almost there, then drive out to the base to get him. It's foolish, I know. At least I get my husband back. I have no right to be upset about this small thing when so many husbands/wives are still over in the sand and will be for many more months. I get my husband home early, and that should be enough.

I'm trying not to let this keep me down. Trying being the operative word...