Dear Husband: A Letter About Deployment

I want to preface this letter with a few important details. I love my husband very much and miss him incredibly during deployments. We’ve been through a year of long distance and several deployments in the past couple of years. Each one is difficult but we’ve learned to adjust and make the most of them. This letter is meant to be fun and not serious. It’s in no way a reflection of how I feel about my husband or deployment. Enjoy!

P.S. He’s already home from deployment. I wanted something fun to celebrate that which is how this letter came about.

 

 

Dear Husband,

 

I heard that you were returning to land and my heart skipped a beat. How am I going to get that massive to do list done before you come home? Why was I overly ambitious when you departed? Why did I think I could do it all?

 

I guess it’s time for me to start the last minute preparations for your return. This means making sure the house is clean and in order. I  know you’re probably laughing at that one. It’s not like you’ve never seen it dirty or anything. I’m not sure why I have this desire to make it clean before you return, but I do. Goodness if you think I was my normal self while you were away.

I’m now wandering from room to room trying to decide what needs to be put away and what needs to be moved for your return. The first one I enter is the living room and I realize that I’ve done it yet again. I’ve rearranged and redecorated the house during your deployment. The décor all matches in true fall fashion and the smaller pieces of furniture have moved again. It looks really good, but it is different from when you left. I wonder if I’ll move couches in the future when we have a bigger place. Overall this room takes little work to improve and I move on. I take one last glance at the clean coffee table before I go – I know it won’t last long once you’re home.

The next room I enter is the kitchen. This one makes me long for you to return quicker. I miss the nightly help with dishes, cooking, and taking the trash out. Did you know that it’s extremely hard to cook for one? I’ve tried hard this last time but there have still been nights where frozen pizza or take out won the “What’s for dinner?” battle. I can’t wait for you to return so we can cook together once again. Oh and someone to take the trash out regularly would be nice too.

The bathroom. It’s surprising but this room is so neat. It’s so much easier when there’s just one set of everything to keep up with. There’s no shaving stuff on the counter or random gadgets left sitting around. It’s just my stuff and your lingering toothbrush. Speaking of shaving – do I really have to shave my legs? They’re keeping me nice and warm as the temperatures lower. You wouldn’t mind a little bristle, would you? You probably would. I’ll add “shave my legs” to the growing to do list.

There’s only one room left to straighten and that’s the bedroom. I suppose it’s finally time to finish unpacking that suitcase from my trip home. I missed you on that trip. I had huge ambitions to unpack it the night I returned while we talked on the phone. When our phone call ended, so did my ambition. So, yes, there’s still a half empty suitcase on our bedroom floor. It will be unpacked and hidden away by the time you’re home.

The bed. Do I really have to share? I miss you next to me but the extra space is beneficial sometimes. It means I can sleep in really weird angles and enjoy Netflix on my Kindle before bed. I’m looking forward to having you home but do I really have to share the bed? We have plenty of couches. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer one of them? They are closer in size to your rack on the ship after all… No? Okay, I’ll make sure there’s room in the bed for you.

I’m really glad you’re coming home. The house is clean just for you – that means I’m a good wife, right? You might need to remind me that you’re around though. If you’re too quiet, I might fall back into my deployment routine of only having myself to worry about.

Don’t worry – I’ll be waiting on the pier to pick you up when the boat comes in. I wouldn’t miss that moment for anything. Did I mention that I’m really going to miss driving your car?

Love,
Your Wife

P.S. My legs will be shaved just for you.