I Remember, and I Will Always Remember

      It's early and the blankets are pulled up over my head. There's a cat sleeping on my chest and I am happily trapped, snug, safe and warm in my bed. The scent of you is on the pillow my face is buried in as I drift and dream.
      Aw crap, the phone is ringing, "damn phone, frickin' racket, who is calling this early in the stupid morning, ugh," and I fumble around, my arm slapping around the bed to locate the source of noise that's pulled me from my sweet dreams. You're on the phone in your 'tough voice' being all business-like telling me that there's been an attack on the US and that you're not coming home, they're not letting you leave the base and you're dagging up in 24hrs. In my sleep I think this joke isn't very funny and I hang up on you, kinda angry, but mostly asleep. Since you were a patient man you called me back again, "no babe, you've gotta wake up, wake up now! and listen to me, it's important and I'm not playing around - now sit up."
      My heart falls into my stomach as I push the tangles of hair out of my eyes, and tendrils of the conversation from minutes before wind their oily selves around my tender, loving, naiive, open-hearted mind. I start crying, wrapped in disbelief and confusion. Terrorists... in the US... plane crash... explosions... the WTC... "Terrorist attacks? What? There are no terrorists here. Wait, what are you saying?! What happened? Oh my God, this isn't real, and I'm still asleep, that's it isn't it?" "No babe, this is real, you aren't asleep, and I'm not going to be able to come home for awhile babe, I can just come get some stuff this afternoon, but I can't really talk to you any more about it when I get there..." "You're not coming home? What do you mean you're not coming home? They can't do that! Your toothbrush is here, you can't leave without your toothbrush, they can't just up and make you leave..."
      Your toothbrush, it's silly but I remember the conversation clearly, and it was like you didn't even blink. You had 4 hours in the afternoon once orders were confirmed to come home, grab your gear, say goodbye, and get back to base to be ready to leave. Your voice is so strong on the phone, my heart aches to have you with me, beside me, telling me it will all be okay, but all I really want to do is throw up. I refuse to do a thing until you get here, until you're home and I can see you, talk to you, look in your eyes, kiss you. I begin padding around the house in my bare feet, my robe pulled tightly around me and my mind racing as I spend the next 2 hours feeling helpless and lost, half-listening to the news trickle in over the radio little by little i this new and altered reality of my life. What were they playing on the radio? I don't remember, did they stop the music that day? Was it only news? I don't know. I walk in circles and circles and circles, around and around and around the house waiting for you to come home. I hear your key in the lock and I rush to the door to throw my arms around you.
      You looked different, your eyes are hard, softening for a moment when you pull me tight to your chest. "Come on babe, we've gotta get my kit n' shit together." I don't want to help you gear up, I want to have a tantrum to make you stay, stomp and scream and cry until you promise not to leave. I have a billion questions that you aren't allowed to answer. I hate the army again. I have no idea where you are going, what you are going to be asked to do, and when you will be coming home. As surreal a time as it was, I had no idea at this point the extent of chaos that reigned within places I always imagined to be safe, impermeable. All I knew was that I wanted you with me.
      You being always prepared, it didn't take us long to pull your stuff together. I'm sure I've barely blinked and now you are heading out the door. You give me a quick squeeze and a kiss. "Don't you dare say goodbye to me (though I know that you never say goodbye when you're leaving this way), you just come back safe. You be strong, and you come back safe to me. Oh, God I love you... I love you," and the door closes. I lean my forehead against it, choking back my sobs so you don't hear as you leave. I am proud of you for being who you are. I am proud of your strength, your determination, your sense of honour and committment to what you believe in. I am glad you are going to be there to help the people that needed you, to help sort through the confusion, wherever they were sending you. I will wait here, I will be strong for you, safe at home until you come back to me.
      Many years have passed since that horrible day, and not one day goes by without thoughts of you, without sending you love out into the big blue. Thank you for being so strong, for being so patient, and for coming home safe to me after those awful days apart. Though I lost you anew to a different(?) terror and my own fumbling indecision, I will always remember. I will honour the things you believed in, the things that were planted deep, hung up high for all to see on the flagpole of your heart.
      For all those who were not so lucky, those who lost someone this day not so many years ago, I will look at their photos again when I can find them, I will read their stories again, and I will remember, to keep even a small part of them here safe at home.