And I could focus on coming home alive.
Whenever I asked how things were going, Mom always had an answer.
Naomi was tired.
Naomi was visiting a friend.
Naomi’s phone had stopped working.
Naomi had developed migraines and didn’t want to talk.
Sometimes I went more than two weeks without speaking directly to my wife.
I hated it.
But deployments had a way of making strange situations feel temporarily acceptable.
You tell yourself you’ll fix everything when you get home.
So when I learned I could leave early, I didn’t call anyone.
I bought a ticket to Atlanta, rented a car, and drove toward the small town outside Augusta where my family lived.
I pictured Naomi opening the door.
I imagined dropping my bags and seeing her sprint across the porch.
I even stopped at a roadside florist and bought sunflowers because they had been her favorite since our first date.
Then I reached the address.
