It's always the first day that's the most difficult. When I wake up in the morning, it would have been one night less of waiting for him to come back. I'd drown myself in the zillion things I plan to do while he's away as if that would take him off my mind. It gets a little bit easier by the day. I mean it has too... what else am I to do... call him and tell him to come back home and to rush it?...:)

Sometimes I really think this is just too much. He's been going on these trips since I've known him, since before we even got married. And he does it at least once a month, 12 months a year and I'm still at it... fretting for his safety, getting too damn lonely. I wonder if there is even a hint of normality in this or if maybe I should have gotten used to it by now and able to take it in stride. I don't know.

It's a quarter to 11. He just called... boarding time. Good luck, take care and see you in a week.

Oh,... and I love you.