Being A Military Wife
It was July 24, 2011, the day I had been patiently awaiting for over a year. This was the day that my husband was coming home from deployment in Bahrain, Middle East. This time, not only was he coming home to me, he was also coming home to meet his four day old daughter. Emotions were high that day. I walked into the airport pushing only a pink stroller with a newborn baby girl and trying not to come in the way of rushing passengers. The ambience of the airport was very impressive. The lounge was brightly lit and tastefully decorated. Huge screens displaying the arrival and departure of flights greeted my daughter and me at different spots. It was a busy time of the day. There was a large number of people with baggage in tow, some standing in line before ticket counters and some proceeding towards different numbered gates. I was surrounded with madness. Everyone was in a hurry and had a place that they needed to be. I, on the other hand, was simply standing there, in front of the departing and arriving flights screen, waiting and watching patiently to see the flight number that my husband was to be arriving on. I was overwhelmed with so many different emotions. Excitement, happiness but most importantly nervousness took over my body. Which was odd because this wasn’t a new boyfriend, this was my husband. There wasn’t any reason I should be nervous, except for the fact that my husband was fixing to meet his precious newborn daughter for the first time. While I was standing there I was met by mine and his family who staggered in. First were my parents, then his parents and grandparents showed up. As I think back on that exciting day, I am pretty sure that we all shared the same emotion. We all seemed to keep our eyes locked on those arriving and departing flights screens. I think we waited in the lobby for almost an hour, and in that hour we heard voices at short intervals announcing the arrival, departure or delay of flights and at times asking passengers