Last night, Ben and I were both getting emotional, now becoming fully aware that we are about to be apart...again. I plan on being much more composed this time than when he left for Afghanistan the first time, but I'm making no promises. Who knows which direction my tears will take me. So as we lay in bed last night, we tried to talk about the future. Tried to be excited for a time when we'll finally get to be together. But after the happy, positive words are said, there is a silence in the dark. Because right now, there's this big three month reminder that it's still going to be quite some time before we will be together. Ben will miss Autumn, our favourite season. He will miss Thanksgiving. He won't be here when I have my knee surgery to help me and tell me it will be okay. We're crossing our fingers that he will be home in time for Christmas but who knows. And when we think about it logically, we know we've already survived so much more than this measly three months. We know we can do it! But there's something depressing about our current reality. So here I am, up wwwaaayyy earlier than any woman should be on her vacation time, because I am upset. I have that familiar feeling in my stomach that reminds me I am about to be alone again. That Ben will go back to Afghanistan and work long hours and wear himself out. He's waking up now and I can hear his footsteps upstairs as he gets out of bed and fumbles for his ridiculously thick glasses before he can walk to the bathroom. In a few days, that sound will be something foreign to me. At least, until he comes home and I am reminded that yes, although we've only spent a few weeks together in the last year and a half, we have loved each other, and that can be something real again. Kelly