5 minutes at a time...

There’s nothing quite like people watching while sitting in the parking lot of your husband’s unit. Especially when they have just come home from the field, or The Box, in this case. There is an undercurrent of activity and exhaustion. As if you had found yourself in the middle of a beehive after a good day’s work. Everywhere you look there are guys that look like every other guy, all buzzing around in different stages of undress. Some look like they are roaming the streets of Baghdad in their full kit. Others have been lucky enough to dump their gear into a car and have turned in their weapons, only the creases and sweat stains remain as proof of their recent activities. I sit and fiddle with my phone in hopes of distracting myself until he can break away and come say hi. That’s what I am here for after all, not to take him home, but to touch him at the very least and perhaps talk to him at the very most. After a month of being separated, it’s enough. I am not alone though. I can see other wives waiting in their cars as well, each one of us is trying to pick our man out from the seemingly identical mass of men in front of us. It shouldn’t be that hard you know, but it can be. But, I see him…I know his body language, I am fluent in it after all these years. The shifting of his feet, the cock of his hip, I can seem him trying to get comfortable in his soaking wet boots with feet that I know are killing him. I can read his desire to strip them off and just air his feet out (to the detriment of any unfortunate soul who happens to be near him when he does). Then he disappears again.




I keep looking in the rearview mirror, checking my make-up. It looks like it did 3 minutes ago and if, for some bizarre reason, it has drastically changed I have no means to fix it. It’s just another outward display of the nervous energy I feel inside. I try again to distract myself with my phone. I peruse Facebook, but it’s all gibberish, I can’t really concentrate on who is doing what or whether or not Susie Q is picking her nose and eating it. So, I sit and watch.



It doesn’t take long; they always come along at some point. With their freshly done up faces and hair that’s still tacky from being assaulted by an aerosol can. They teeter on summer’s latest wedges and high heeled sandals. They walk together in a little group, taking courage from one another, with eager anticipation written on their faces. They are heading toward the identical mass. They haven’t learned the lessons of this particular course in Army Wife 101. You don’t go to them, they will come to you. I smile and remind myself that that was probably me 9 years ago. We all start somewhere.



I sit in my truck and watch them make progress towards the mass and the closer they get, the less sure they become. No one is looking familiar to them and the guys are looking at them as if aliens just landed. You can see them become uncomfortable. The thing is, they might as well be aliens for all it’s worth. These guys have had nothing but each other’s company for a month solid. They smell like ass and are in full on brotherhood mode. They have let go of the civilities and niceties that make them appropriate for the general public. They have been crude, lewd and down right nasty. All the things that make boys into men and make men into boys. It takes these boy-men a few seconds to come back to earth, to normal society. Because, lets be honest, when you and everyone around you smell like each other’s dirty socks, the sudden appearance of perfume, hairspray and lotion in the air is intoxicating. You can see some of them savor the smell like a good cigar. As Himself’s old boss used to say: “After being gone from bitches for so long, if one comes near me, I can sniff her out like a bloodhound on a scent.” I would say that sums it up.



No one takes pity on the little group, they go back to smoking cigarettes and kicking dirt. The interminable dance of Hurry Up and Wait. The clock ticks by and it’s almost as if you can see them wilting from uncertainty and nervousness in the hot sun. The southern heat has no mercy when it comes to poofed up hair and artfully applied make-up. One woman had the courage to wear jeans and now they have soaked up water from the rain a few hours ago. She is beginning to look less like a primped up wife and more like a drowning rat.



In my opinion, it’s all just another reason to stay in your car. It has AC and you stay as pretty as you did when you left the house. And there’s something to be said for that.



Then you feel it, the shift in the energy. They have been cut loose for a few minutes and the mass begins to hive again in full force. Everyone is off on their particular mission. The drowned rat and wilting flowers have been found and are being gently guided back to their cars by their husbands. You can hear the roar of engines coming to life and guys shouting friendly taunts and jabs back and forth. I can see Him again. He’s giving last minute instructions to his guys, reiterating the importance of being back here in 45 minutes or else. Then he turns and looks at me and gives me a crooked smile. The one that says, “Hey you, long time no see. Thank you for waiting. Oh, and I want your sexy ass.” It’s all there, like I said, I am fluent in this man. He gets in the truck and sighs with the relief of many things put aside for now, for the sheer pleasure of sitting in AC and for being home again. He tells me that I smell good and I tell him that he doesn’t. He laughs. But, the truth is, he does smell good in his own way….his man sort of way. It smells good to my primal side, reassuring me that this mate is a good one. He will feed me and my children and protect us from harm.



We sit there, in our private world. We kiss and laugh and try and explain what we have been doing for the past month. But mostly, we just exist together. Savoring the ability to be close again and to talk without saying words. This, this what I have been waiting for. This is what I would wait a lifetime for and it sometimes feels like I have.



And then the energy shifts once more and it’s time to go. Our brief reprieve is gone. He steals himself to go back out there, to leave our little sanctuary. But, he looks at me and says, “I love you baby.”



That’s what I came for and it renews my spirit. It allows me to drive away without him and to continue on until he’s home again. But the reality is, this is nothing compared to what we have coming. This is child’s play and we both know it. I think it makes this time so much more bittersweet. I won’t get my 5 minutes when he deploys again. He won’t be able to hop in the truck and escape with me. So, that’s why I am here. I am a greedy little thing and I am snatching up all the bits of time I can. But I am not alone; I see the same feelings written on the faces of the women around me, even the drowned rat and the wilted flowers.