Iraqi Honeymoon
My lady's on MP duty, that's Military Police, policing the dangerous, dusty streets of Fallujah, Iraq. Yep, Iraq; honeymoon capital of the world. Absolutely not.We married three days ago, said, "I do." Kissed. Partied a little, until interrupted, as my special logistics liaison unit pulled out, in answer to an emergency and, short staffed at the present, we all left, including me, her brand, new husband; with the promise to get me back to her soon—AFTER our assignment, of course.
She's great.
When we're together there's no fear, but apart she worries about my "secret" forays into unknown places, among the hardest of enemies. And I go mad knowing she's on dangerous streets that make the roughest gang street in America a block party in comparison.
I get the best equipment, the best intel, the best training, and she gets a cheesy, ill-fitting safety vest, a hummer without armor, and a rifle that's a Cracker Jack® toy prize compared to the hardcore one I carry.
We're foreign here. And there's sand everywhere.
I should be caressing her soft skin, not alone, oiling my weapon—no pun intended. It gets into everything, like "fine time sand, windblown from a broken hourglass." Her mom, MY new mom-in-law said that. Well, actually, her mom said the fine sand part, and my baby added the rest.
She's so smart. She's so beautiful to me. I do love her. I do miss her. I do plan not to be blown or shot to bits before holding her again. Holding her forever.
Her last voicemail to me, in her bubbly voice, said she'd stay away from cafés and open markets—prime targets for a disgruntled types blowing themselves and their neighbors up, and she promised that she'd keep her....http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/iraqi-honeymoon.html
No comments:
Post a Comment