Rainbows

I went home recently for 12 days. 12 days. It was great, in its own way. I saw friends, had play dates, spent time with family, and I got my hair done. Sounds relaxing, but it wasn't. Maybe it would have been more relaxing had I been in a better mind frame. Or, if I didn't have to bring along my trusty side kicks. I don't belong there anymore. It is pain painstakingly obvious. I tried to make it work though. I lived out of my parents house, made the trek into Billings almost daily and tried to have fun. But it sucked, because it didn't feel right. I was just a visitor and it felt weird. This was really the first time I realized it. So I tried, I tried, and tried to have fun, but I couldn't 100%. In the back of my mind I was sad. Sad because I didn't feel like I fit in, yet in Helena, I don't feel like I fit in either. Cue: Frustration.    12 days earlier my least favorite thing occurred. The giant green duffle bags came out. Our living room became littered with army green, as my husband began packing to be gone for the next 3-4 weeks. The army. It is just one of his many hats. He is a Blackhawk Pilot in the National Guard. It fills me with so many bittersweet emotions. But I'm proud. So proud of him. He is amazing at it. But with it being such a huge part of his life, that means, time apart. For weeks now I've been sitting back watching my friends make memorial day plans with their families--hikes, camping, barbecues...and I knew I'd be spending it apart from him. It makes one a little sad. Heck, a little angry. I don't always think people really grasp what Memorial Day is about as they day drink & enjoy their day off, and their husbands, and maybe I wouldn't either if the military wasn't part of our lives. But it is. And the thing is, it sucks to be apart from your spouse. Then add two sweet little girls, who are daddy's biggest fan, asking you when daddy gets home every day, and your heart hurts.    This particular time apart hurts more than usual, because I know what lies ahead in the next year and a half. That band aid got ripped off for me a few weeks ago. You try to stay present. In the moment. One day at at time. But you know that it is coming and it so hard to not imagine whats ahead. This trip home just brought things full circle for me. I have a lot of work to do, inside and out. I want to be in a good place, so when he leaves I'm content where I'm at. I want Helena to feel good. I know it is getting there, with any transition, it takes time.    Yesterday we came home. Yes, home. This is home. The refrigerator at some point over the past 12 days decided it didn't want to work. All our food, ruined. I had to take the fridge apart and clean it. I had no idea what I was doing. It took me way longer than it should to put together, and at one point I cried on the kitchen floor because I felt helpless. It is a joke always made about the army. When they are gone, things fall apart. Its expected. Following the fridge fiasco we had to go shopping and the girls grand parent hangover kicked in, and they weren't having it, so my patience wore thin. That resulted in more tears, as per usual, I convinced myself I'm the worst mother ever, because I got upset. We all eventually apologized to one another and got back into our routine, and just as we were ready to go to bed we saw it, a rainbow. It was beautiful, and vibrant, and right out our back door. That rainbow, a sign of promise, beauty, and enlightenment. This morning I'm still thinking about it. My little beacon of hope.    Lucky I am to have such beautiful family and friends. I'm grateful I can escape to go see them. Just as I am grateful to have a home to return to. I'll get through all this crap as I always do. I even think eventually I'm going to be able to live in the present. I work on that every day. Sometimes it is just hard to choose joy. But I get it. I'm going to hold on to the rainbow, and that promise of the good that lies ahead.