Letter Two and a $.28 Postcard

I sent Cary a postcard from Mammoth today, and I returned home to a letter in my mailbox from him. This kismet is nice.

(Did you know postcards cost 28 cents now?)

Cary's letter struck some chords again. He does some essential venting and swears he doesn't want me to worry, but it still makes me worry a little bit. A good worry. What would this program be if it didn't wear people down enough to make their loved ones worry? He's being smart about it though, a day at a time, an hour at a time, trying not to think about home too much. It still feels good though to know that home has that power though. That's what will keep bringing him home throughout this adventure our lives are taking.

In his letter, he had just finished Taps and has some time to write. It didn't sound like he received my first letter or care package yet. Bummer. I just know it will lift his spirits the way my parents' care packages did when I was in school overseas, and it wasn't even miserable there. Any taste of home, a picture, a restaurant menu, food, magazines, essentials, perks. It was all so warm and happy, familiar and makes you feel loved.

He says the details of what it's like over there don't really define it--they're only vague examples of what feelings they evoke. Eating procedures, no talking, memorization, physical fatigue, lack of sleep, everybody is sick, no eye contact. The class started out with 99 candidates, 48 in his Foxtrot company. Now they're down to 37. Some failed physical evaluations, three dropped on request (DOR), others were injured. One guy, Becote (an NFO, or a 'Goose' from Top Gun, applicant), said he'd been to both army and air force boot camp when he was younger and it was nothing like this.

I waited for his call today. Really waited. Which was weird because I never pictured myself doing that, thinking about it every chunk of minutes. No more. He'll call when he can. It's been two weeks since his last call. The only real call since he left three weeks ago, and it was only about three minutes long. I did talk to him when he arrived in Rhode Island, but that doesn't really count; yet, I would have sucked the life out of him then if I knew it would be this long, get really good and annoyed at him and the phone before the dry spell. Butters however provided distraction, staring at me the mornings up at Mammoth--get up and take me outside. She only peed in the house once and on the kitchen floor thank God. And all the Lawsons were really understanding. I mean her hair gets everywhere, from my nostrils to my slippers to everyone else's nostrils and slippers. It was just nice to be with family, especially his family since they remind me so much of him and even my family at times.

Cary's Uncle Brett made the usual series of comments that bust me up. He mentioned we need to drain the jacuzzi. "Like 15 people have taken a bath in it. And all that sunscreen. It causes a film, a ring around the entire tub." We all sigh to ourselves and wonder how bad it really is. Do we actually need to be the ones to change the water? Some time passes. We watch When Harry Met Sally, to which Brett preempts the punchlines. When Dane asks Kelli if she's going to get in the jacuzzi, she replies, "Like 15 people have taken a bath in it."

The showers are out of hot water the next morning, so I'm serously considering the jacuzzi. But I wait until I'm home. And it's worth the wait. But the phone rings. I slip out without much grace. It's only Jamie; and I mean 'only' in the nicest way possible. He's wondering how Cary is. You and me both.

I wish I could show Cary our cactus (see those green extensions; they're new!) and Cody' drawings.