You don’t ever really realize how much you’re missing in life until you start paying attention. You start looking at pictures or reading messages and things start to come into focus. A lot of time I operate out here with the assumption that the rest of the world has stopped. But it hasn’t and we’re all missing out on a lot of things back home.
I was looking at some pictures that my friends have posted and I got a little sad. All the activities that I could be part of, all the changes that are occurring in other peoples’ lives that I’m missing out on, all to be out here.
I have one friend who just had a baby and is preparing to move away from Saint Louis. She was like my workplace sibling. I was there for some of her pregnancy and was one of the first in the office to learn about it. I missed out on my nephew’s first birthday and probably his first few words. I saw him briefly while I was on leave, but only enough for him to remember who I am. I’m sure next time he will have forgotten again.
I nearly missed out on a best friend’s wedding. I made sure that every site lead or manager that I spoke to knew that I was leaving that weekend and to not try and stop me. There are a lot of things that I’ve almost missed or am currently missing. To keep things in perspective though, my situation isn’t near as bad as some.
There are guys out here that are missing the birth of their own children. Others who are missing their own children’s first birthdays, first words or first steps. All the people out here fighting the war are going through tough times. For some, under other circumstances, would potentially be starting their freshman year in college, are instead missing out on their civilian lives. What’s worse is most of them are going through some type of relationship problem. I’m fortunate not to have to deal with that, but it’s hard to talk with them about what they are going through.
It’s all relative, but it’s always difficult. Whether it’s my nephew or someone’s own son or daughter, or it’s hanging out with my friends or someone else hanging out with their friends, it’s difficult for all involved. You see life play out through email, the news, pictures or if you’re lucky a webcam. I guess the truth is that life continues, it’s us out here that are frozen.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Last Man Standing
A couple days ago I started a post that I wasn’t able to finish. By the time I started it the time was nearly midnight and after about 15 minutes I decided that I was too tired to continue. Given a few days to let my mind stew over the intended contents of the prior post, I think that I understand better what I was trying to put down on paper at the time.
It was a beautiful night in Afghanistan. The temperature was probably around 65F and a cool breeze blew over us. This was a departure from what had been the norm, 90F with a blow dryer-like wind blowing dust into your face. We were sitting outside our tent on the last night for the last original member of our cigar group besides me.
I remembered when I first arrived in country when he and the site lead at the time stood waiting for us near the airfield. As we distanced ourselves from the engine blast of the C-130 I looked over and could tell they were Scan Eagle guys. He asked me how I knew, and I responded that we all dress alike. He laughed and said he could tell we were the ones they were looking for because it was all military guys and two dudes dressed in civilian clothing, one being an out of shape, pale white guy. It was a funny conversation, maybe one of those that you need to be there for.
But it was conversations like those that have been few and far between in the past few weeks, maybe even months. Those light-hearted nights when we talked about women and food have faded into something far more morale busting. Our nights are now more or less venting sessions where we gather in our small circle and complain about this person or that one. It’s these times that make me miss home more and more with every given day.
Before, the day felt like it ended. I felt like I was able to escape the country and all the frustrations encountered in the job. Now our days drag on late into the night. We get pounded during the day for various reasons and then we complain about it at night. The only real escape we get is when we crawl into our respective bunks and start a movie on our respective laptops. I always think it’s funny when you look around the tent after lights out and there are gentle glows coming out of every occupied bunk.
Then there was the night we had a few days ago, which was nostalgic. I haven’t laughed about stranger things since my first week here. Don’t get me wrong, we still had those moments where we vented but most of the evening was spent reminiscing about old times. I can’t say that I was surprised since it was one of our last days and no matter how bad things are the end is only one restful night of sleep away for him.
Now that he’s gone I find myself the last remaining member of the team that I started with. I have one other person who will sit out with me during the nights and smoke but he prefers cigarettes to cigars. The nightly anger sessions continue as they’ve always occurred and my only escape continues to be my own personal movie night while lying in my bunk waiting for my last night.
It was a beautiful night in Afghanistan. The temperature was probably around 65F and a cool breeze blew over us. This was a departure from what had been the norm, 90F with a blow dryer-like wind blowing dust into your face. We were sitting outside our tent on the last night for the last original member of our cigar group besides me.
I remembered when I first arrived in country when he and the site lead at the time stood waiting for us near the airfield. As we distanced ourselves from the engine blast of the C-130 I looked over and could tell they were Scan Eagle guys. He asked me how I knew, and I responded that we all dress alike. He laughed and said he could tell we were the ones they were looking for because it was all military guys and two dudes dressed in civilian clothing, one being an out of shape, pale white guy. It was a funny conversation, maybe one of those that you need to be there for.
But it was conversations like those that have been few and far between in the past few weeks, maybe even months. Those light-hearted nights when we talked about women and food have faded into something far more morale busting. Our nights are now more or less venting sessions where we gather in our small circle and complain about this person or that one. It’s these times that make me miss home more and more with every given day.
Before, the day felt like it ended. I felt like I was able to escape the country and all the frustrations encountered in the job. Now our days drag on late into the night. We get pounded during the day for various reasons and then we complain about it at night. The only real escape we get is when we crawl into our respective bunks and start a movie on our respective laptops. I always think it’s funny when you look around the tent after lights out and there are gentle glows coming out of every occupied bunk.
Then there was the night we had a few days ago, which was nostalgic. I haven’t laughed about stranger things since my first week here. Don’t get me wrong, we still had those moments where we vented but most of the evening was spent reminiscing about old times. I can’t say that I was surprised since it was one of our last days and no matter how bad things are the end is only one restful night of sleep away for him.
Now that he’s gone I find myself the last remaining member of the team that I started with. I have one other person who will sit out with me during the nights and smoke but he prefers cigarettes to cigars. The nightly anger sessions continue as they’ve always occurred and my only escape continues to be my own personal movie night while lying in my bunk waiting for my last night.
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