Preparing for a deployment is a lot like preparing for a long awaited trip to Disneyland. You run around gathering supplies, excited and nervous, do a few extra loads of laundry and get everything in order that will have to happen while you are gone. The thing is, until it really happens, it just doesn’t seem real, and when it happens, the only thing is continues to have in common with Disneyland is the really long wait until he comes back home and the ride of your life together gets back on track. Instead of cotton candy and roller coaster rides that make you puke, you get all of the household chores and taking care of everybody, even when you have the flu because there’s no one else to step up.

Right now we are preparing. Every day it comes closer and starts presenting itself as a reality in fairly stark ways. The desert camo gear and the gas mask lying around the house, the sudden influx of toiletry doubles all serve as constant reminders that your family’s lives and the life your spouse are about to split dramatically. In spite of all this, life continues in it’s usual monotonous patterns. There are still dishes to wash, Sunday school lessons to prepare, jobs to attend to. Even our usual family outing of going out for burritos and browsing the bookstore happens in its usual rhythm. These rituals are benign, safe things that we hide behind and take comfort in, things that distract us from the fact that there is indeed a war going on, one that Chris will soon be much more involved in.

This war is not one that presses hard on the minds of everyday Americans. There is no real sacrifice for the common man; no gas rationing, no victory gardens being planted. Only the occasional displeasure at the news that yet another service man or woman has reached an untimely death at the hands of an enemy or due to our own military’s occasional incompetence. The event is momentarily glowered over, and then dismissed so we can return to our safe routines, where we try not to think of the people for whom this war is a pressing, every day reality, for which there are consequences. Relationships sour with an ocean between loved ones, stress becomes paramount, and people die.

Living on an air force base, I am continually made aware of these consequences. The young mother with four small children in tow at the commissary isn’t shopping with her brood for fun. She’s struggling through the aisles because she doesn’t have another option. Parents come home to be reunited with children who no longer remember them, or who are bitter over the months of neglect. Spouses engage in infidelity and come home to find their homes are no longer their homes. Of course, there are those who make it through almost unscathed, who’s priorities are a little straighter and who cling fast to the bigger picture that takes them out of the present stress and into the joy of the future.

At a recent briefing we were told that most couples fight a lot prior to a deployment. They love each other so much they choose to emotionally distance themselves because it’s easier to say goodbye to someone you’re ticked off at. Chris and I have not fought or bickered. It’s just not worth it to us. Oh there have been occasions we could have snapped at each other, but when you realize that the socks on the bathroom floor that are irritating you today won’t be there very soon, fighting about it starts to look pretty stupid.

The one thing that remains constant is the worry. We have spent so much time worrying about how the children will take this that it hasn’t been until recently that we’ve really started to ponder on how much we will miss each other. Our routines are so intertwined, I am sure it will come as a shock when those tiny things that we depend on are suddenly gone. Little things like another body heating up the bed, or having a lukewarm bath without Chris coming in with a steaming pot of boiled water to compensate for our tiny water heater plague my thoughts, and make me wonder how many other little things will suddenly come to the forefront of my mind once they stop happening regularity.

Our last long separation brought us closer together, and in the long run, was a credit to our marriage. It was something that we survived together, although apart. I’m hoping this one will do the same. You have to have that hope.