Actually, he went halfway around the world and then turned around and came back.

Bill has called me twice today, on his cell phone, from Germany. I was wondering what we would ever do with all those rolled over minutes that we have been accumulating. He’s on his way back from a brief visit to Afghanistan. He spent two days there and the rest of the time through his return tomorrow afternoon (about 6 days) is travel time.

While “in country” he sent me this email:

Leaving soon … good trip overall..had dinner w/ Perry this evening…it was great to see him!!! {The Boss} recognized him from his visit and called on him frequently. This place is a dump but I feel guilty being in my position. I get VIP coattail treatment while everyone else is … well deployed. I’ll have a beer in a couple of days, they won’t. Heck they may not live a couple of days. You’ll be pleased to know security has been real tight and I feel quite safe. Hope things are well there.

War is hell. Now, in 18 months, when he gets deployed as I predict he will, he’ll try to tell me just how safe the place is. The emphasis added is mine – that’s all I saw when I read that note.

Bill typically gives up beer for Lent, but not this year. I’m willing to bet, knowing he’d be spending the night in Germany tonight, he intentionally did not give up beer just so he could indulge in one today. What amazing foresight. The man has his priorities straight.

A month or so ago, Bill had to fly out to Missouri and then California over the weekend. As he was saying goodbye to all the kids that Saturday morning, Billy blithely said, “Bye, Dad. Hope nobody shoots your plane down.” Bill assured him that it wouldn’t happen, but I pulled him aside and mentioned that planes don’t get hijacked in this country either, huh? I don’t like to speak in absolutes to children, unless it really is an absolute (death, taxes, God’s love, and the way somebody will urgently require your attention the moment after you pour milk into the cereal that tastes really nasty when it’s mushy).

Billy’s comment stemmed from his knowledge of a helicopter crash in Iraq that killed soldiers from my husband’s office. We didn’t include the kids in most of the conversations about the incident, but they hear things, they know things. Obviously, though, he just didn’t grasp the meaning of it all. That people don’t generally live through those situations doesn’t seem to enter his mind.

When Billy asked me at the school table last Wednesday where Dad was going on his trip, I very lightly said, “Afghanistan.” “But that place is dangerous,” he spluttered and immediately was in tears. I calmed him somewhat by mentioning all the people we know who are over there ***although I am most happy to know that as of today, my friend Stacy’s husband is on US soil…she will see him on Friday!!!*** and by telling him that people live there: families, children. Eventually though, I had to forbid him any tears in front of his sisters lest he upset them, and I made him stay in the den until he could get a grip on his emotions. (That’s right, son, repress those tears, be a man.) He’s been weepier than usual about little things this week, and I’ll be happy when he sees his dad tomorrow.

Fritz argued, “But this is the second time Dad has been deployed.” As if deployment were a disease like chicken pox that you became immune to once you got it. I wish. I explained that two days in country does not count as a deployment.

Nonetheless, Billy, my talker, went around to everyone he saw (clerks at the grocery store, people at church), telling them his dad was in Afghanistan. Living on a military installation, we would get sympathetic clucks. Then Billy would say he was coming home in X days, and they would get all excited for us. It was quite embarrassing.

Both boys have been pestering me the entire week about making Dad a welcome home banner. Not a picture, but a big ol‘ banner like you’d hang on the front porch, if we had a front porch. No, I tell them. If you can plan making a banner the day after the man leaves, it’s really too short of a trip to warrant such displays. They look at me as though I’ve just declared their Dad unworthy of love.

I’m just grateful that the girls seem oblivious to the hullabaloo. Their normal shenanigans are enough for me. And I’m grateful that Bill will be getting up in a few hours and heading for home.