Merry Monroe #2

I left him home when we got in a fight.
It was a stupid fight, something about Brie or the DVR or the fact that he would honestly choose to go back to Iraq while I was left alone here.

So he went back, and I sucked it up; I sucked it up so that we would have a lovely goodbye, a poetic one, when I was crying and he was stoic.

And so I realized I knew more about the chicken and rice guy down the street than I knew about you.

So I listened to Sade, for three days straight, when it was 100 degrees here, and maybe 110 there. I gave you what I could before you left, the khakis and the water bottles and the DVDs to kill "down time."

I wish I had down time, down time from worrying about you, down time from wondering whether you are healthy or fighting or relaxing or dying.