Well, it's Sunday morning and another week is over. That means that my husband is one week closer to coming home. Sunday is, by far, the hardest day for me because this is my husband's day. It was always his day to do whatever he wanted that made him happy and what used to make him happy today was football. You know it may not seem like that big of a deal to some but to me Sundays are huge. I won't lie and tell you that it doesn't usually take a lot to break me. Hell! I've been doing time right alongside my husband for over a year now and, while I've come close, I haven't broken. However, Sunday is a day that will break me...if I let it. The reason that Sunday is hard for me is because my husband always looked forward to this day when he could think about nothing, worry about nothing and just be. Not much was on his mind then except watching a good couple of games and having a few drinks. Now when I think of Sundays and football, I picture him sitting in a day room with hundreds of other men jockeying for the tv just so he can have one moment in the week that can take him from the hell that he is in to a place that he truly enjoys, even if it's only for a few hours. When he was home, he never asked for much so when he wanted this one day just for him, you bet your ass he got it. When he comes home to me and to our family, he will have his day because after everything he has been through and the strength, courage and determination he has shown while inside, he deserves at least that.
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