A lot of my friends watch those "Surprise Reunion" shows. The news is full of Dads surprising kids, or wives getting surprised at special ball games. I watch these and I tear up and I think they're really neat.
But I've never wanted to be surprised with a homecoming. I've told My G that I really would prefer some notice, even if it's a call from the airport. I've told him I don't do surprises very well. I've told him many things.
I'd want to get myself ready...maybe a pedicure.
Change the sheets and towels.
Clear off his night table and give him back his pillows.
Clean off his side of the bathroom sink (I swear, my stuff wants to take over the world).
Vacuum, do the yard, put stuff away.
A thousand and one small acts of love and welcoming, getting myself and our home ready for him to come back-- they'd all need to be done.
The other day, when Little G was at an academic awards ceremony, I saw a soldier come in who vaguely reminded me of My G. Just a little teeny bit, just enough to think "oh, I wish that were him." And then something clicked in my mind-- I've reached the point in this deployment where I would be okay if he suddenly got a chance to come home. I'd welcome it. If he showed up in one of those surprise homecoming things, I'd hope that I was dressed nicely but all the same-- I don't care.
The house can be a mess.
I can always shower later.
The yard may not be perfectly mowed.
His car may still have my lip gloss riding in the cupholder.
I really don't think he will care. And I won't either, now.
We've gone through three of these things now, plus a year of Korea, and this is the first time I've been done enough, tired enough, so the thought of surprise didn't send me into a tailspin.
If that had been My G, with his rambling walk and proud step, I'd have knocked people out of my way to hold him. I wouldn't be thinking "oh my gosh the house is a mess" or "holy cow what else does this mean for us"-- I'd be thinking one thing and one thing only..
Finally.
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