Good Sunday morning!
Another week has passed and that means that my husband is one week closer to coming home. He has now been gone 424 days or a little over 60 weeks and while that amounts to a little over a year, to me it's a lifetime.
There are a lot of things that we should be doing right now and missing each other isn't one of them. We should be gearing up for Sunday football on TV or, even better, going to a game and freezing our butts off because that's how footbal was meant to be watched, outside in the cold. We should be standing in the kitchen bsing one another, making chili, having a few beers and betting with each other to see whose team is going to win. You see I will always bet against him because, well, it's just more fun that way. We should be doing all these things...but we're not. Hopefully, this time next year we will be sitting in the Dallas Cowboy's Stadium together with our family watching a game, eating hotdogs and lovin life.
In the meantime, I am sitting here watching football and making chili and my husband is sitting in a 6x8 cell waiting on medical chain...again and I hate that. I hate that he's missing out on things. I hate that he can't watch the Dallas Cowboys kicking butt and most of all I hate that he isn't here living the life he truly deserves and was always meant to have with me.