I didn't get a letter all week from Mark. This had a very sad affect on my mood this week. But he's been able to call me every weekend for the past two months, so I set my sights on today. Yesterday I was positively jubilant, an emotion not easily come by lately.
The drill sergeants haven't given them their phones.
I am not a depressed person, but I'm reaching the end of my rope. I miss my husband too much. I put too much stock in today's phone call, and now I'm sinking because it doesn't look like I'll get one. I'm trying very hard to pull myself out of this, because I need to start cleaning the house and feed lunch to my children. (So far, I've sliced up a couple pieces of cheese and given them a bowl of frosted flakes. Sans milk.)
I feel like a weak person for feeling this way, because I know many women who are without their husbands for more than a year, in a dangerous combat situation. That's not me. He'll be home in a week. But I can't shake the dread of trying to get through this week with no contact from him.
Writing is my escape. I can't wait to sit down and write.
today's goal: 53,544
Monday's goal: 55,722