It’s nearing the end of another month and the number of days Aaron’s been gone is nearing triple digits. News from the desert makes it sound like all is as well as it can be. He works long days and they aren’t getting much for time off – but it wasn’t as if this was unexpected. I get to hear from him a bit more which helps, but I can’t wait until this is over.
As for me things are somewhere between ehhh and ok. I’m in the final days of being a twenty-something and by next week I will cross over into the thirty zone - not exactly thrilled about this birthday. It’s not that I think thirty is the end of my youth (although in my teenage years I did decide that 30 was the age you turned old. I really wish I could build a time machine and go back to younger me and just give me a slap across the face and point out that 30 is not old - 90 is old). While it’s not an ending, I did make it a big milestone. By 30 I wanted to be married and have kids, I wanted to have been to Europe, have a house, and have some type of degree that made people call me Dr. Wendy. So I didn’t go get a terminal degree, never been to Europe, and it’s tough to start a family when your husband is 6000 miles away. And due to my warped sense of reality I see this as the birthday I’m the crazy cat lady. Consciously I know I’m surrounded by people that care about me – but on a subconscious level I see myself alone with crazy unbrushed hair, wondering around in a house coat and slippers, and talking nonsensical to the cats. I guess this just isn’t how I pictured this birthday would be. I know this feeling will pass – my kitties and dog are excellent counselors – pretty sure they all watch Dr Phil or something equally sensitive while I’m at work ;)
307 days to go.
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