These last few days have been nice. Kyle's been able to keep his phone since Sunday, and since then, I've enjoyed a phone call each and every night, and a "good morning" text message around 6am each morning. It makes this whole situation much less difficult, and keeps me from worrying myself sick.
I have to admit, I'm getting spoiled to this regular communication. I'm hoping he gets to keep his phone from now on, because if not, I'm not going to be a very happy carrot.
I miss feeling "normal."
I feel like I've stepped into an entirely different role since he left. Being his "military girlfriend" is nothing like being his plain old everyday girlfriend. It's ten times as scary, comes with ten times the responsibility, and is ten times as nerve-wracking.
Every conversation, though masked with jokes and light-hearted reminiscing, is laced with fear and longing and pain. Each time I hear his voice is a small, bittersweet miracle because I never know how long we have, or how long it will be until the next call. And I live for those phone calls. Every time my phone rings, I bolt to it, and I've aquired quite a few scrapes and bruises from falling and tripping into things on the way. I'm constantly obsessed with checking to make sure my cell still has service. Fuzzy phone coverage is my worst enemy these days.
I keep a countdown in my head of how long it will be until I can see him. It drives me crazy when I have a slow day, and my favorite days are the ones when I'm so busy I don't have time to check the clock. The faster I can push the next two months by the better.
When I wake up in the mornings, I instantly do two things: check for missed calls and whisper an "I love you" towards the window. Somehow I think it will get to him.
At work, when it's time for the mail, I'm a nervous wreck until I can get downstairs to check my inbox. I've actually been beating our mail sorter the past few days. He's had an easy job lately...I've been doing it for him out of impatience.
I've also become the walking encyclopedia of "how Kyle is doing." I can't leave my house without running into one of our friends who asks about him. In a way, I like that people know to ask me... Being able to spread his news and deliver his messages makes me feel slightly more useful. At least I can help him somehow.
I don't watch the news anymore. It gives me nightmares. (I'm not explaining that one. It should be self-explanatory.)
I'll just be glad when this is over. I'll be glad when I can go to sleep at night without noticing how cold and empty the spot next to mine is. When I can walk to my ringing phone instead of leaping over tables to reach it before it goes to voicemail. When I can see a car that looks like his drive down the road without my heart skipping a beat. When I can watch the news without repressing the urge to cry. When I can stop throwing things at the "Go Army" commercials. When I can stop feeling ashamed for being so impatient and bitter. When I can eat a chocolate-chip cookie without feeling guilty because he can't have them. When I can take the elevator to the seventh floor without feeling lazy because he's out running 15 miles. When I can bare to pick his clothes up out of my floor where he left them. When I can see a dog without wanting to take a picture and mail it to him. When I can stop rambling about him to total strangers. When I can...when I can feel normal again.
Being this stressed, this obsessed...it's just not like me.