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It's All Happening
posted Saturday, 15 July 2006
It happened exactly as you might imagine. We landed in southern Utah first, since the majority of the Triple Deuce lives there, and then re-boarded and flew the 45 minutes up to Salt Lake City. The feeling was spectacular, but the butterflies in my stomach were unstoppable. As we landed and taxied over to where the crowd was, two fire engines created a water arch and sprayed the plane. I was the second person off the plane. There were cheers and laughter. The sun was in my eyes as I smiled and waved. There was a military welcoming party, and after that a 20 foot space of open area. I was scanning the crowd, which still hadn’t broken up from a solid line of people and color and banners, and suddenly two kids broke from the crowd, and I knelt down to their level and scooped them up in my arms. It is the only thing to do. It was one of my finest moments.
I’m sitting here in Salt Lake City now and the kids are asleep and the dogs are fed and the house is quiet. The Great Salt Lake itself lies to my West, quietly slapping the rock formations that lie around it like sleeping dinosaurs, ancient turtles that lead to the shale and the west desert, to the Salt Flats, to Nevada. To my East is the Wasatch Front, a beautiful portion of the Rocky Mountain range which leads up to the High Uintah Mountains.
I’m typing this on my new desktop computer that I unashamedly treated myself to as a coming home present after Iraq. I have a cable internet connection and I’m good to go – the world lies at my fingers.
All around me, it’s happening. Life is filled with interest at every turn, slowly re-introducing me to the realms of relaxation, the tempo of my brand of Americana. My life, and the lives of my children, and all those we meet become intertwined in unknowable fashion – whether I see you at the red light, your face hardly visible through your falling hair as you lean over and reach into the glove box, or I am right next to you and the sun is in your face and I look over for maybe 10 seconds - you’re still a part of my day. We shared time.
The wide open spaces are quite nice. Just tonight I walked two blocks to a local high school with the kids. They were having a Freedom Festival for the 4th of July. We walked around, bought some glow necklaces, cotton candy (purple for the girl, blue for the boy), fresh lemonade, a glow in the dark rose, and 6 tickets for the three small inflatable “rides” they had. The kids did great, listened to me when I told them to stay close. I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all in the crowd of about 2,000 people. I was content, which surprised me because I was at the mall recently and felt out of place, on edge and hyper-alert to every little detail.
At about 9:30, they closed down and deflated the three rides. We sat on the grass talking and wrestling, and finishing our cotton candy. I sat Indian style and the kids both perched up on my lap with their legs stretched before them in the grass, leaning their heads back to lean against my chest. From there they gazed out at the people on blankets and kids running everywhere and the slowly deflating blue and red slides and bouncing rooms, and the glow sticks bright in the dusk, balloons all around, many floating up and across the sky, some with glow sticks attached to them, and the kids kept wanting to move further into the crowd. So we did. Soon we had pushed the little plastic rose into the ground to mark our territory, and they were sitting on my lap again right there in the grass in a maelstrom of blankets, people, and strollers of all types. Beautiful chaos. We were taking turns using the digital camera, making faces and shooting pictures and then looking at them and falling on the grass laughing at ourselves.
That’s when the lights went out and the Pledge of Allegiance began. As we all stood with our hands to our breasts, including, quite happily, the kids, they raised a huge American flag up with a crane. Then the fireworks started, and lasted through at least six songs, which included Proud to be an American, Amazing grace played on bagpipes, Neil Diamond’s Coming to America, and Europa’s Final Countdown. It was one of the best firework displays I’ve ever witnessed, with some new effects I hadn’t seen before.
When it was all over, and after a huge finale, we walked the few blocks back to where we had parked, and then drove home. It wasn’t far. My daughter asked if they could stay up late, and I said maybe, with a smile.
I let them color a picture each, because they asked to, and then let them hang out on the couch with some blankets, and the warm milk they requested. Within a half hour, they were both snoring, hair mopped to their faces with sweat, even though the house was cool.
These are therapeutic days. I am used to living the life of a dedicated father, who works full time in the Army National Guard, and goes to work one weekend a month as well. It’s a good life. The work is busy and rewarding, but family prevails. Then you spend 18 months being a soldier every day, and the Dad part is strained because no matter how much you call, write, or e-mail, you’re still absent. There are no hugs, no smiles. So like I said, these are therapeutic days. Getting to know the kids again, shielding them from the drama of my pending divorce, relaxing while mentally preparing to get back to work, it feels good. And I’m proud of what I’ve done. I don’t go around wearing OIF T-shirts or anything, but if it comes up in conversation or casual small talk, I’m more than happy to talk about the fact that I just got home from Iraq. “Just happy to be here,” I say with a smile. I’m feeling more positive about the future than I have in years, and that’s a lot because I’m typically very positive by nature.
These days are helping me to remember how good I had it, how sweet life is, how warmly America embraces me, how resilient my kids are.
I’ve had time now to soak it all up. I’ve spent lots of hours these last few weeks wrestling with my children, carrying them on my shoulders, or just smiling at the glint of unfiltered joy at going to the park with Daddy. I’m spoiling them. Yesterday we spent two hours at a park as evening drew on and the air cooled in the valley. We had mountains in almost every direction from where we stood at the park. When I finally pried them off the swings, we picked up some dinner at a drive through. We were on our way home to eat it, when my daughter noticed a park we had visited before: “Ooooh, Dad. Did you see that park? Remember when we went there? And it has that pumpkin?” My three year old boy hasn’t been there, but he chimed in, “Daddy, can we go there right now?”
I did remember the park. I used to visit the library right next to it on a weekly basis. There was a replica of Cinderella’s carriage in the middle of the playground. Usually I would be in a rush to get them home, fed, washed and ready for bed at a decent hour. My instinct told me to say no, because then they would expect multiple park tours every time we went to a park. I looked at my watch. 7:30 pm. I looked out at the sun chasing shadows on the mountains, listening to my now incessant son’s little voice, “Can we Dad? Can we right now?”
“Okay. Let’s do it, guys,” I said, to cheers and laughter. And so we sat a picnic table amidst about 10 other families, then I let them play with all the kids there for close to another hour. By the time we got home, they were both tired and happy. And so was I.
I am enjoying being a random American, a combat vet who doesn’t fully understand what he just went through yet, an emerging writer perhaps, a full-time Dad, a face in a se of faces leaning back on bent elbows in the soft grass of collective enjoyment as we all watch the fireworks on Independence Day.
I’m surprised by how little I think of Iraq, and the deadly Al Anbar Province. I have only spoken to one of my buddies from the war. I will go back to work full-time in the National Guard soon, so I’ll be back in citizen soldier mode, and as we still have units deployed, I’m sure Iraq will orbit back into my radar screen. But lately, I haven’t given it much thought at all, except when people ask about it, which I find difficult because everyone has such strong opinions about this war and unless they’re a soldier the only exposure they have to what’s going on over there is through the main stream media. No one I knew before the war read milblogs.
There are still soldiers fighting and working over there. I do hope they can accomplish their missions, as we did, and get home to their families safely. For me, I’m probably going to give the Army another year or so, then I think it’s time for new realms. I am getting back into the swing of things now, so I will be blogging more, and as I mentioned here, www.wordsmithatwar.blog-city.com/otherblog.htm I will eventually transition to my new blog, maintaining this one only for the occasional essay, publishing announcement, or any other matters that stem from my Iraq experience.
I just wanted to thank you all for the continued support, and for reading. And I thought I’d give you an update. I’ll use both blogs to announce any happenings with the writing efforts.
This reunion with family life, this sweet strain of summer, it’s terrific. It’s all happening.
"An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but precursors of the things which we are capable of performing." Samuel Smiles
Leave comments for Captain K here: (13)
1. Anonymous left...
Sunday, 16 July 2006 10:48 am
Safe, home, kids close, happy and content, transitioning well - such
wonderful news, Lieutenant K. It does sound like it is all happening!
2. Sherri left...
Sunday, 16 July 2006 6:56 pm
Well LT., you're saying all the things I had hoped for you, and for all the
others still away from home. Keep spoiling yourself with wonderful child
moments and enjoy all that you have defended.
3. Bridget left...
Monday, 17 July 2006 8:01 am
Thanks for the update, LT. Glad to hear you are enjoying the sweet giggles
& smooches of your children. Thank you again for protecting mine. May God
bless you and your family in whatever new adventure comes your way.
4. MikeW left...
Monday, 17 July 2006 8:49 am
LT K,
5. Cynthia left...
Monday, 17 July 2006 10:07 am
Lieutenant K~
Welcome Home! I'm thrilled that you are truly enjoying your children and
your life at home! I've valued your blog as a source for information.
It's funny how you become connected with people you have never met, but
you've been in thoughts and prayers for a long time. Again, welcome home!
And, thank you for all you have done for our country!
6. francoise left...
Monday, 17 July 2006 11:10 am
Wonderful, beautiful post ! So full of love, joy, humanity, emotions !
7. Jenny left...
Monday, 17 July 2006 6:54 pm :: http://geminiwitchtwin.blogspot.com
I'm happy and thrilled to read of such great news and your happiness.
8. shionge_ left...
Tuesday, 18 July 2006 7:36 pm
Dear LT, this is such a beatiful post that for a moment, time stood still
for me as well as you shared this precious time with us.
9. kbug left...
Thursday, 20 July 2006 8:47 am
I'm glad you're enjoying the time you have with your kids...and once again,
welcome home!!!
10. Soldiers Angel CJ left...
Thursday, 20 July 2006 1:16 pm
Lt K, its so good to hear your voice. This post is really beautiful. Best
of everything to you always!
11. MissBirdlegs in AL left...
Friday, 21 July 2006 2:46 pm
Lt K - What a joy this has been to read! I'm so glad you're experiencing
this down time with your kiddies. I don't think you're spoiling them, I
think you're providing them and yourself with memories that will last
forever. I wish the very best for you and yours in the future. Appreciate
the update.
12. Susan left...
Tuesday, 25 July 2006 7:47 am
Welcome home. Your words are so moving eloquent. I'm glad you are
enjoying time with your kids. My husband returned home last October and we
adopted a daughter in February and for us Iraq will probably, in your
words, orbit back onto the radar screen. In the meantime, we are enjoying
our lives together and our daughter.
13. Barb left...
Sunday, 30 July 2006 9:45 pm :: http://barbette.blogspot.com
How sweet that you're home and able to enjoy the pleasure of your children
and the beauty of the Salt Lake area. Thank you again (and again), you are
awesome!