One Week

One week from today, my husband of a little less than a year come back from Iraq.

And I won't be there to greet him.

It's a decision that I've thought long and hard about, that I've agonized over. But I can't do it. The contract has been broken. Probably irrevocably.

I do not want to mislead anyone into thinking that I am without blame. If anyone threw down the first glove, it was me. I fully accept the consequesnces of those actions and was sure within myself that they would lead to the end of the relationship. While what I did could be considered "the one thing he told me not to do, above all other things", his reaction was the same. However he continued to act like it was nothing that should effect the relationship, that we could still go on with our plans when all the money that we'd been trying to save was gone.

For the last few weeks, footlockers have been arriving with the mail, though some I had to go get myself from the post office. Here is what he has to show for his time gone:

Eight Large Black Footlockers

And that's why I won't be there to pick him up in a week. We both knew what we had to do to make this work, or to even attempt to make this work. While I followed the agreement we made for all except this last little bit, tried to be the best wife I could be according to the rules we set out, he chose not to for almost all his time away. I hope that whatever is in those footlockers are worth it.