I had a chance to eat lunch with my former roommate at my prior post recently (and his wife is friends with my wife). I asked what he most looked forward to when he got home. His little girl. I asked about a more simple, everyday pleasure that he anticipates. Chick-fil-A.
People might be surprised, but soldiers aren't eagerly awaiting fancy things. We have most of our conveniences met out here, including a PX, basketball court, and coffee shop. The food is never great (especially for a self-identified foodie/fast-foodie), but is also never bad. Lacking anything? A soldier can buy it on Amazon and have it arrive faster and cheaper than anything sent from home.
Does that mean that it is a cakewalk out here? Of course not. There is always the threat of insider attacks and the possibility of getting hit by an IED on the road. And, as often mentioned, the separation from family is usually the hardest part.
So what soldier miss most often are simple reminders of home. I like to see my boy playing with his toys on Face Time. I like to see the bookshelves and the individual titles on them, as well as the woods across the street from my house. I like to see my wife eating her hippie food.
My wife asked me what I would most like to eat when I get home. It's easy, and it's the same as most young soldiers out here. Chick-fil-A. Nothing crazy. Just an original crispy sandwhich on toasted buns with two pickles, kept heated in its fancy foil packaging. The waffle fries, while not as good as McD's, would round out the food nicely. A refreshing drink would come in the form of either a light lemonade (with ample pulp), or a half sweet/half regular tea. No milkshakes. Not even deployment and their inherent deliciousness could tempt me to take the thousand calorie plunge. For all the good and pure, no milkshakes. (With the possible exception of mint, in which case I'll still probably split it with the wifey and go for a walk with her afterward.)
No fancy wine either. Just give me the $3 Whole Foods variety, with the savings going toward the occasional wine-tasting adventure with the Mrs.
Soon after getting back, I'll grab my running buddy from down the road and go for a run through the woods and onto the forbidden island on the Potomac that has two-three miles worth of running trails. I've never been one to sit and stare at nature (beautiful, but boring--don't tell the wifey), but nothing will grow your hankering for trees and running water like living in a lunar landscape filled with befouled water and toxic fires.
I'm going to bring back the family daycations that me and the wifey enjoyed in the early years of our marriage, when we could afford neither the time nor money for a vacation. This time, I can take the boy with me to investigate cool historical landmarks while the wifey admires architecture and peruses antique shops.
Either a pull up bar or rings will be attached to our new deck, so I can take bit of my new workout regimen home with me. While I do my super sets, I can watch the little one play in the grass (and probably eat it), as all little boys should do.
I'll build on our relationships with friends within the community. My wife has done a wonderful job of doing so in my absence. People in modern suburbia are desperate for friends and community, and I delight in offering both, by God's grace. I will invite folks from the neighborhood, Mommy Boot Camp, my Army unit, the local movie theater, etc. over for summer cookouts and to join us at church, where folks can hear relationships reconciled with God in Christ.
Speaking of the summer, I look forward to steam spiced shrimp (everything is fried out here), crabs cakes in Old Bay, and raw oysters (all on the East Coast). When visiting Puget Sound (the giant lake in Washington), I look forward to outdoor smokers, flank steak, rain, and vino culture.
I recently saw pictures of my sister's new baby. It was a surreal experience--I don't even remember her being pregnant (I was gone for virtually all of it). In a sense, my world is changing while I am outside of it. In reminds me of an incident I just read about in the Laura Hillenbrand's gripping historical book, Unbroken, about a WWII pilot who survived forty plus days on a raft in the ocean and then the horrors of Japanese prison camps. After two and a half years apart from his family, an emaciated and barely sane Louis Zamperini finally got a few pieces of mail from his family, which relayed ordinary details of a world he no longer belonged to.
Nothing in my relatively cushy experience here compares to the horrors he endured, but I can imagine a bit of poignancy of being reminded that this now-foreign world of his past is still somewhere present and may one day be a newly-realized future.
I do not regret a day of this deployment. God has called me to care for and share the Gospel with soldiers. But after a lifetime of running away from home, I find myself finally running toward it.
