girl on a wire

Day Five of being home sick had given me ample time to think and decompress from the holidays. But only slightly so, as I haven't actually gotten up to do anything useful, like take down the Christmas decor or find designated space for the new toys. I have had some good, long, catch up talks with a few friends and also spoke to Skip this morning, which was great. We had all been feeling pretty disconnected over the holidays, try as we might. Last night Cedahlia (poor, coughing every 12 seconds child) lay in her bed, with Ronan on his makeshift mattress on the floor beside her. What began as a slumber party two months ago has developed into a nightly co-habitation, which I think is so sweet. I overheard her grumpily and sadly say to him, "Everything feels different. It's like we never even had a Dad." It has been five months since they have seen him, and now that the fun of the holidays is past, she appears to be battling that post Christmas slump adults often have, though hers is more complicated.

Within a few conversations this week, the book War, by Sebastian Junger, has come up and been highly recommended reading. I am on the fence about whether I want to check it out. My conundrum is this: while I am highly aware of the issues regarding deployed soldiers and their daily struggles, I do far better managing life here when I bury my head in our own, easy, comfortable American sand. I am balancing on a wire, with my husband and many friends in harm's way every day, and Christians being slaughtered  for simply loving their Creator on one side, and living a quiet, predictably wholesome, Midwest life on the other. I am not naive or in denial; I would say that I know too much about the ugliness of the world. Long spurts go by without any news watching or reading....and then I find myself glued to the recent articles about self immolation or Nigerian Christian babies being hatcheted upon their mother's backs. I ask Skip about injuries because he never offers up that information, and I am told IEDs have been more prevalent than ever, resulting in many concussions and traumatic brain injuries. So then I am back to sword fighting with Ronan, who imagines himself to be Peter Pan, while my mind races with all kinds of imaginary and very real violence that is happening to our soldiers at that moment. I think of next fall and how Skip doesn't have a job lined up and then I read this and I try not to feel sick. Reducing troop strength means reducing active duty, while Guard and Reserves take up all the slack and have far more frequent deployments. This is not mentioned in the article.

It is bizarre to live this life; looking boringly around my living room and thinking up things to do to make it more interesting. New pillows! A new lamp to replace the one Toby knocked over repeatedly until it eventually died. Only, I can't decide on the lamp because I want it to fit in with the rest of the room. Only I want it to be contemporary, with maybe a blue lampshade. Yes, blue! And I was fully prepared to spend $150 on custom framing an Afghan tapestry today, except that was my estimate, and the framer's estimate was double that. Then, page through the mail and watch Ronan read the magazine about starving children and I explain again to them, how many children have nothing at all and a special peanut butter can help them live much better. Peanut butter on a biscuit, that I throw away because my kids have had enough and it didn't taste that good without a generous slathering of honey. I vascillate between wanting to simplify my closet and give away 90% of it, and then hear the siren call of post holiday sales and think how I really could use some basic tops, couldn't I.

In these dark, winter months what I most wish I could have is simple: the kids lovingly tucked into their beds at night, Toby curled up on the couch, and Skip and I watching a movie probably a guy movie that I concede to, eating bad snacks and just being there together in the same place. I also wish that the world was peaceful and that everyone loved their children tenderly and no one was hungry or hurting. But that is a fantasy. At least I know that when my best friend returns, Tron:Legacy will be out on DVD and I will gladly watch it with him and two pints of Hagen Daz that we pass back and forth until our stomaches ache slightly.

postscript: You may wonder whether Skip reads this? I wonder too. I don't think so, and perhaps this will be better to read when he has safely returned, so he can sit and read my angst, while I read his war books in the comfort of our little nest.