It's been a little while since I've written because, quite honestly, I have been overwhelmed with the thought that my husband is finally coming home. In just a few short months, and after close to two years, I will finally get to put my arms around him and look him in the eye and tell him how much I love him and how much I have missed him.
It's been exactly 15 days since we were given the news that my husband made parole and I am sure that I haven't slept for more than three hours at a time. My head has been swimming with all of the things that need to be done now that he is coming home.
Time is ticking and I fear it will run out before I get everything done. It feels like there is another mountain in front of me to climb but this one is considerably smaller than the last one and this time I won't be climbing it alone. I won't deny that the first mountain felt like I was climbing Mount Everst and it was a son-of-a-bitch to conquer. My husband was coming up one side and I was coming up the other and after months and months of struggling and being apart we both finally made it to the top. We will be together and we will continue to do it our way and nothing can stop us. We have made it through the worst of it and we are stronger than ever just like I said we would be when this all started nearly two years ago. He promised he would always be OK and I promised I would move to Texas. He has kept his promise just like I knew he would and I am keeping mine and because of our love for one another and our promises to each other, I realize now that the mountain I thought was ahead of us is really just a little hill.