3 Countries, 14 Days.
A month ago, I hopped on a plane to Spain to spend some time with the husband.
Nevermind that he warned me about his work schedule and how it would be nowhere near our days in San Diego. See, here’s the thing. As a military wife, you really just tend to take all that you’re given. Any time they’re on shore or home port is gold. “At least I’d get a chance to see him in his command,” I said to myself. “Besides, it’s still more or less a month. If I get bored while he’s at work, I’ll just stuff my face silly with tapas and down glasses of sangria.”
Two things before I continue. One, it’s funny I even mentioned being bored when I was always on my laptop writing article upon article for a freelance job (which I absolutely love btw). Two, yes I ate and drank way too much Spanish food, and yes, I’m still paying for it in the gym.
A couple of days into finding our daily rhythm, he got a glimpse of my desktop wallpaper. “It’s the Eiffel,” I said. “Maybe one day we’ll get to go.” He trailed off a sleepish ‘maybe’ in agreement and I didn’t prod any further. He had given me a warning on his schedule anyway and well, I was fine with staying in Rota. Our Eurotrip could wait. I mean, he’d be stationed in Spain for a while anyway. There was no need to rush.
Maybe it would happen. And maybe it wouldn’t.
Oh, but it did.
Babe, you give the best surprises. I will never lose the words to tell you how grateful I am for you and everything that you do.
Thank you for showing me the world and for holding my hand through it all.
I love you, always and in all ways.