Worry. I hate to worry.

I feel sick to my stomach when I don't hear from him. My mind comes up with a million horrific scenarios, things that may have happened to him. I am sure he is just fine and in less than 2 weeks we'll have him home with us. I have to remind myself that when he goes on a mission, he becomes the mission. It is something that I do love about him. But I also know that he wouldn't necessarily let me know if something was wrong. He didn't let me know when he got so very sick while he was deployed in 2008/9. I just knew I hadn't heard from him in weeks and the longer that went on, the more worried I was. This feels like that. We only have 12 more days. But they seem to be stretching on and on. I obsessively check my email, I mean really it is after 10, and I needed to just hop on one last time to see if he emailed me. And I feel so alone in this. I can't talk to my kids about it, I need to put on a brave face, and say "Yes girls, Daddy is fine, he loves you and will be home soon." While inside I am imagining terrible things, my brain going all night, I'm not sleeping. This weekend was a welcome distraction, my parents here, the cold weather blowing through, and my friend, A, stopping by. I miss having them to talk to.

And ok, it hasn't even been 6 days since I last heard from him. But this entire trip he's been distant. And I had just gotten used to him being HERE again. We'd just become US again it felt like. And back to the beginning. Back back back. Knitting isn't keeping my stupid fears away. Nothing is, even while driving around my thoughts were on him. Always on him.