It’s official. A. is going to Afghanistan. He booked his flight today. He leaves at the end of the month and he’ll be gone for seven months — though we’ll get two weeks in the middle to meet up. We’re thinking Tanzania in March.
At the moment, I feel surprisingly calm. I’ve had a few months to wrap my mind around not only him being gone (and me missing him), but also him going to a war zone. Lucky for me, he’s not combat and he won’t leave the base. He’ll basically work 10-hour days and sleep in a tiny room held up with plywood.
But that he’s going into the unknown does stress me out. I’ve had a few crying spells — a few “I’m so worried about you!” meltdowns. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a few more. But when I get past my moments of weakness and can think clearly, I’m really excited for him. It’s going to be an adventure. That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with A. — he finds challenging opportunities. He’s driven and smart and fun and he challenges me. I’ve never been so in love. And I’ve never been so nervous to face separation. But I have a village of wonderful people for support — and ideas for adventures for me.
Bring on Skype, letters, emails. We’re going to be just fine.