It means that I understand living together (even when you are married) is a privilege, not a right.
It means that when I said “for better or for worse” I was more worried about the “till death do us a part” issue.
It means I pay the bills, know our daughter’s shoe size, and can put together exercise equipment without any outside help.
It means that on a regular basis I have to say these reassuring words to my G.I. Joe, “No Babe, of course I don’t think less of you knowing you have killed.”
It means I never truly know where we’ll all be spending Christmas.
It means I’m always prepared to celebrate Christmas in July.
It means that I know Post Traumatic Stress is not a disorder or disease so much as a way of life. (If that’s the worst thing that ever happens to us then I’ll be eternally grateful.)
It means I tear up anytime a commercial for any branch of the military comes on.
It means I didn’t ever, not for a minute, expect that the love of my life would be present at our daughter’s birth.
It means I know what to do and not to do when my husband has “those” nightmares…but I still feel helpless.
It means I’m married to a hopeless romantic, a man who hand writes love letters, and can do his own laundry/ironing…basically every woman’s dream.
It means I’ve lived the exact opposite of every woman’s dream: sending your brand spanking new husband off to war for the first year of your marriage.
It means that I love hard, work hard, and cry hard. Usually all in the same day.
It means when I see another soldier out in public I have urges to hug them and buy them lunch.
It means I know the phonetic alphabet and use it to curse when I feel frustrated.
It means I have a box under my side of the bed that's overflowing with letters, pictures, and mementos from throughout our relationship. And that these are things that keep our relationship going when we can't see or talk to each other.
It means I’ve found out who in my life I can trust and rely on, and who isn’t worth a second thought.
It means that I am part of a sisterhood. Its one that isn’t based on branch, or rank, but on the common bonds formed by mutual pride, fear, and hope.
It means I have often wondered why God would decide for some soldiers, like mine, to come home, but that other families would have to pay the ultimate price for freedom.
It means that some mornings I don’t want to get out of bed, and others my feet can’t wait to hit the ground running.
It means that I shake Generals’ hands, toast our country at banquets, trip over muddy boots, misplace berets, pretend I know what he’s talking about when G.I. Joe tells me about his day, and make fun of him when he watches the History Channel—even though deep down I am just thankful that its our couch he’s watching it from.
It means I wear peace signs, and he carries a gun. He’s steel, and I’m marshmallow. When I need to be strong I just rely on his strength, and occasionally I bring out a little mushiness in him.
This is what it means, to me, to be a Military Spouse.
I couldn't resist jumping in on this contest hosted over at Married to a Sailor. Stop by and check out all the amazing entries!