The Deployment Diary

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Day 276- Finally Heard "Letters From Home"

We had to drive up to the installation today for my doctor's appointment, get little guy a hair cut and pick up some groceries. On the way home, I finally heard the new song, "Letters From Home." If you've not heard it, I'd suggest flipping the dial every two seconds like I did until you finally run across it ;).

Here are the lyrics:
Artist: John Michael Montgomery
Song Title: Letters from home lyrics

My Dear Son, it is almost June,
I hope this letter catches up to you,
and finds you well.
Its been dry but they’re calling for rain,
And everything's the same
ol’ same in Johnsonville.
Your stubborn 'ol Daddy ain’t said too much,
But I’m sure you know he sends his love,
And she goes on,
In a letter from home.

I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared
and our boots ain’t muddy,
and they all laugh,
Like there’s something funny
bout’ the way I talk,
When I say: "Mama sends her best y’all."
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work.
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home.

My Dearest Love, its almost dawn.
I’ve been lying here all night long
wondering where you might be.
I saw your Mama and I showed her the ring.
Man on the television said something
so I couldn’t sleep.
But I’ll be all right, I’m just missing you.
An' this is me kissing you:
XX’s and OO’s,
In a letter from home.

I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared
and our boots ain’t muddy,
and they all laugh,
'Cause she calls me "Honey",
but they take it hard,
'Cause I don’t read the good parts.
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work.
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home.

Dear Son, I know I ain’t written,
But sittin' here tonight,
alone in the kitchen, it occurs to me,
I might not have said,
so I’ll say it now:
Son, you make me proud.

I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy,
but no one laughs,
'Cause there ain’t nothing funny
when a soldier cries.
An' I just wipe me eyes.
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work.
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home.
I guess it's no surprise that I had to put my sunglasses on even though it was cloudy and try to wipe tears away stealth-like to keep our daughter from noticing.

I think I'll try to keep the radio off those first few weeks he's home when we're in the car together. While I fought to keep the tears away while listening to this today, I tried to imagine what it's going to feel like to have him in the car with me. Regardless of who is driving, we're always touching one another. Both cars are five speeds, so if I'm driving he has his hand on my leg and if he's driving I have my hand on his leg. If we're going down the interstate and he is driving, he holds my hand.

While I was thinking about this today, I could almost feel his hand in mine. I thought about how good it feels to lean over and put my face next to his and gently kiss him on the cheek. I especially like when we've been out all day and he's starting to get a five o'clock shadow. His stubbly cheek on my smooth - the strong touching the weak, the rough in contact with the softness. No matter what subject, it just feels as though we balance one another...his large hand in my small. His larger than life presence, compared to my small, wall-flower like persona. We just complete each other and I truly am living for the day I no longer must feel as though the best part of me is missing.

I love that man with all my heart, all my soul - and the thought of finally having the opportunity to once again be held by him is what keeps me driving on....

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