Keepin' the Home Fires Burnin'

My mother and I are now in a routine; we know where to find press releases that announce casualties, we check the news almost religiously for any news of the war, and we have a support system to ensure we can handle each day. Because at this point, that's what it is: day-to-day.

When my brother spontaneously announced that he was going to join the army, I pictured something different. I pictured him going to boot camp and worried because Daniel loves to sleep (like me), and boot camp meant getting up early. I laughed inside because Daniel always would lay on the couch and watch TV... he never played sports... and now, he would have to work out, run, and God knows what else at boot camp. I knew the army meant he would live somewhere else, but that was just a minor technicality -- I had already moved out of the house at that point. And, in the corner of my mind, I knew that his joining the army meant he would have to go overseas.

But, nothing can ever prepare you for the sheer helplessness of having a loved one go to war.

People think they understand. They give you that heartfelt, 'oh, that's awful' face when you let them know someone you love is over in a big desert dodging bombs. But the only people who truly understand are the ones who are going through it, too.

Daniel has been in Iraq for about 3 months now. We are only a fourth of the way through with his stint "overseas" (doesn't overseas sound so much better than "at war"?) In some respects I feel as if time is flying, and other days I feel as if time has stopped. The phone makes my heart jump. The five seconds it takes for internet pages to load with the news are agonizing. And I go to bed every night praying to God, bargaining with him: keep my brother safe, and I will do anything. Anything.

I think what is most frustrating... is the apathy. (most) People in this country are unaware of the details of the war -- they don't know the exact number of casualties in the war so far (my mother knows it by heart); they don't realize the sacrifices soldiers have given (my brother inadvertently reminds us every time he phones home); they don't realize the strife the families are put through (we live it everyday...)

Instead, we all go to our jobs, enjoy our pedicures, drink a cup of Starbucks... curse at traffic, laugh at our TV shows, eat out and enjoy a movie... we complain about the gas prices, the heat, we read about celebrities and tsk tsk at their sundries... but how many people stop, and think, Wow... I have all this freedom because of our soldiers who gave up theirs.

My bet? Not many.

I am proud of my brother. Prouder than any sister who has a brother serving. But I will sleep better, and laugh harder, and smile more genuinely when he has come safely home, and I have hugged him once again.