Week 38

I remember the first time Joe came home from war. We had bought our house before he left for Iraq and I hand moved in without him. He stood in the doorway, "should I take off my shoes?"

"I don’t know," I said with a laugh, "it's your house."

Re-acclimation to stateside life has its laughable moments, but generally speaking it’s a time of grounding. Most husbands are at least remotely aware of what type of behavior is expected of them, but after a year (in this case 15 months) away from home, rules and roles change. I loved my husband for gently inquiring about how to proceed.

While home for the next year we devised a fairly evenly distributed division of labor. I assigned tasks and he completed them. I cleaned the house and he did the dishes. I cooked and he ate. I did the laundry and he folded it. At four o-clock in the morning, we both hunted uniform socks down together.

Joe has been gone exactly three and a half months today and I have finally begun to settle into an empty house and a routine of my own. I was perplexed by having to clean gutters out on my own, get cars fixed, and lug garbage. I relish in my independence and mourn my co-dependence simultaneously.

When Joe comes home next year, at least I will know what to expect. I will courteously and gently return some of the household duties to him once he has relaxed and settled in. I will dote on him so that he knows how glad I am to have him home. I will greet him with open ears, an open heart, patience and pineapple upside down cake.