Wherein I write about the time my husband went to Alaska to work on a commercial fishing boat...
The man is my best friend, the air in my lungs, the purpose to my heartbeat. He's been away for forty two of the longest days. Forty two lonely sleeps. And only now that we are just hours away from reuniting (48 hours and the countdown continues) do I finally feel that the weight is being lifted from my chest. His absence was crushing. I read that and it does sound just so dramatic and silly. But it's what I've felt and I won't deny that. I love my husband with all I am. We are truly bonded as is the goal of marriage. Two souls united as one.
I'm thankful for the opportunity he had to be part of a great crew for a great captain. I'm thankful he got this experience. This trip was his first ever flight in an airplane. His first time to Alaska. His first time commercial fishing. And I trust that he's made memories, been challenged, and will come home having gained from these six weeks.
For me, I'm ready to put this behind us. I did not have fun. I felt lost the entire time. (Side note: days 9 - 15 with my sister were a welcome and wonderful reprieve). I survived by keeping my head just above water for six weeks. But that's all. I survived.
Day 44 will be a happy reunion!