Dec. 24, 2002 ~ Christmas Eve
Husband's mother is still not doing well. We are just hoping that she makes it through this.
Still no word from Soldier Boy. Today is Christmas Eve. I can't even imagine what this Christmas will be like for him. Far different from the times, not so long distant, when holidays meant family and gifts and good things to eat. Will he have received any of our mail or packages by now? I sent the first package either the same day he left, or the day after. Have sent two more since then, but now have had to cut back. I finally relented and sent the cigarettes and such that he requested, but was shocked at the cost. You smokers probably find it shocking, too! It had been many years since Husband smoked, and I might be wrong, but I think the price of a carton of cigarettes has doubled or maybe tripled since then. Of course I feel like a bad mom for sending him something so unhealthy, and I struggled with this for a long time. But it's what he asked for, and he is a grown man, who happens to be living in terrible conditions. If this will help him get through it, then so be it.
The thing is, I know absolutely nothing about his situation. He was under the impression that they would have no "home base" where he was going, that they would be living out of their backpacks (rucksacks?) and sleeping bags. So I don't even know if he has room for the stuff I send. I'm sure he will share, if that's the case, or maybe even if it isn't. So I try to send a lot in each package. I am sure rambling on about this, aren't I? So let me get back to the original subject... which was... I wonder if he will have anything to open for Christmas? And what about his fellow soldiers? I worry about them, too. I've asked Son if all of the men in his platoon receive mail, because if not, I'd like to send them something. Friends (bless you!) have asked about this, too. When I find out, I'll let you know. It's almost 10 PM in AFghanistan, as I write this. Which means it's very nearly Christmas. I hope and pray that next Christmas will be happier than this one, that my son will be home, safe and sound. That's the ONLY gift I need.
I had originally aimed for two letters per week, and have managed that, but now I think I'm going to try to send them more often. Maybe even write every day, if possible, even if it's only a half page note. Just something from home... a reminder that people are thinking of him. There is NOT much to say, after a while. I worry that I repeat things. Well, there's always something to write about, it just may not be interesting. One silly thing... I had written something funny to read aloud at last night's meeting. I had printed it out, and had that and a letter to Son in my hands, when the phone rang. You know how sometimes, especially when you are tired, you seem to go on autopilot? You do things without thinking, and later you have no recollection of having done them? Well, I haven't had much sleep lately (coughing), and I'm even LESS mentally alert than usual, if such a thing is possible. So the phone rang, and it was someone from the hospital, and... I did SOMETHING with those papers, because I later realized that I was no longer holding them. But for the life of me, I had no idea where they were. Maybe they are hiding with Wendy's something. But after looking absolutely everywhere in this house, and I do mean everywhere, I began to wonder if I had put the work papers in with Son's letter and mailed them off to him? If so, he will get a big laugh out of it, or else he'll wonder about my mental status. Or maybe both. We'd mailed several letters to him yesterday, and it didn't occur to me till later that he might have gotten a little surprise. I printed another copy of the papers for work, so that was no problem.
You will probably think this is silly, but I've started re-reading Soldier Boy's letters from Basic Training. Some of the things he said really make me smile. And he wrote often, when he wasn't out in the field (sometimes for a week at a time), so I feel like he WILL write when he can. Or he may already have written lots, and we just haven't received anything yet. I've probably said that about twelve million times by now. A man at the post office today asked me if we had heard from the boy. Not yet. No, not yet. But soon.
A tiny heifer calf was born today. Her front hooves don't look right. But sometimes their legs or feet look really crooked or deformed, and then later they straighten out. So we'll see how she looks in the next few days. I might ask Susan about it, too. It is cold here, and misting rain. A tough time to be born. The little one is shivering so.
Well, time to start that letter to Soldier Boy.
Merry Christmas Eve to all!
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