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I Miss My Partner In Crime
Pirynola and IndiaGuerita
Also known as my husband
Almost every night I call my husband. I dread the long beep that is Mexico's equivalent to the U.S.A's ring tone. I dread the crackling static that interferes with our simple conversations. But I love hearing my husband's voice (even though he sounds light years away).
I can always tell how the conversation is going to go by the tone of his voice and the amount of background noise that I hear. I can hear roosters crowing (at all hours of the day). I can hear the townsfolk in the background (snippets of Spanish words that sound exotic and fun). I can hear the dogs barking and the kids cackling and playing in the streets. And the weirdest sound of all - the PA system that drones on from the crack of dawn until the sun sets. The PA systems battle for the attention of the consumers by hawking their wares for literally 15 hours a day. How my husband can stand it I'll never understand.
I listen intently to his intonation and his words. I try to feel the 'pulse' of his emotions in each conversation (Yes...I analyze things to death). Even though he vehemently assures me that he is 'fine', I know better.
Tonight he broke tradition and blurted out: "I just want to be home." In my head I am screaming, Me too! The kids miss you so much and I miss you and the dog misses you, even the stupid tarantula misses you! Our house is so incomplete without you. What I say is more along the lines of: "We miss you, too. It's going to be over soon and you'll be back home." I say this while my heart shatters into a million pieces, my chest tightens and I have a tiny panic attack while sitting on my porch.
I miss my husband. It's been seven months now without him. I remind myself daily that our family is not special in this process. We are nothing but a number to the Department of Homeland Security. But to our friends, family and our children - we are so much more. We are a family that is constantly saving face and telling everyone that we are 'fine' and it's 'worth it'...We are a family that is obviously slowly falling apart without our glue. And we are a family that is pretending that life is completely 'fine'.
I miss sitting on our porch, drinking coffee together in the morning before our work day starts and before our children wake up. I miss giggling in bed while he tries to warm up his cold feet on my heater-like legs. I miss watching him play soccer with our boys and I miss seeing him with our daughter perched on his lap while he reads her for the millionth time. "The Digging-Est Dog"
I try to remember that he is coming home - even if it's going to add up to 12 months in the end. I know that we are not unique and that he is not in the war - defending our country. But, for our family he is making the sacrifice. He is the one in the third-world country, watching his childhood friends and others delve into the seedy underbelly of the cartels. It's my husband that is taking cold sponge-showers everyday due to the lack of a normal plumbing system. It's him that swats flies away from his food while he eats (alone) and wipes sweat from his brow while he fixes his mom's dilapidated house.
So, I will suck it up. I will try to maintain my cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor when friends ask me how I am. I'm fine, I'll tell them.
But inside my heart is aching. I miss my partner in crime, my husband.