Interruptions

We were finishing dinner and the phone rang. The caller ID listed one of those strange numbers with lots of zeros. I've learned to recognize those as calls from Iraq. I excitedly told my daughter it might be Daddy calling. I said "might" because sometimes it disconnects and we don't get to talk to him. It didn't disconnect, but... it wasn't Daddy. It was a phone call from my Alma mater. (Why does a university come up on caller ID with a phone number similar to a call from the other side of the world? They are only 20 minutes away from me.) The chatty college student asked, "Hi! How are you?" I was brutally honest. "I'm so disappointed. I saw caller ID and thought you were my husband calling from Iraq." She was sympathetic. Then she went into her persuasive monologue. I caved and donated. She caught me at a weak moment.

Earlier this week a survey company called, asking for my husband (by name). After hearing that he wasn't here, the man asked to talk to any other veterans from the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. (As if I keep spare veterans lined up on the couch to receive such phone calls!) I started LAUGHING and reported that my veteran was still over there so wouldn't be able to come to the phone. The absurdity and ironic timing of this phone call struck me as hilarious. The caller thought I was nuts and he got off the phone pretty quickly.

Today, while in a meeting (not while teaching kids) my cell phone rang (oops! I have to remember to silence it). It was a long distance number I didn't recognize. I answered. Ta-da! It was my husband. He thought it was Saturday and had no idea he interrupted my work day.

The last time he called not knowing the day or time was during his first deployment five years ago. In fact, many calls were like that. I'd tell him the day and time here. Then I'd help figure out the time there because he really had no idea. Those calls were often alarming and emotional. I never knew when to expect them. He could call in the middle of the night, middle of my teaching day, during the one opera performance I ever went to see, or any other time he happened to get to a phone. He would be sleep deprived from long missions. The call would disconnect many times. This created a ten minute phone conversation that took place in 8 different calls with lots of wait time as he redialed. We'd have no idea when we could talk again. So, I'd try to say "I love you" during each segment of the call.

Today's phone call reminded me of how much easier this deployment has been. (Maybe it wasn't even a reminder. I'm not sure I took time to reflect on this in the last year. "Easier" still isn't easy.) In the last year I have not received any phone calls that caused me to worry about his immediate safety. Not once did I get a phone call telling me about attacks or casualties. Most phone calls have occurred at planned and expected times. Most phone calls actually occurred on the computer so I got to SEE and hear him. His confusion and the unexpected timing of today's call had nothing to do with danger, sleep deprivation, or war. He lost track of the days because he's been sleeping, eating McDonald's, and laying around for hours. IN KUWAIT. My husband is one country closer to home. He's safe, excited, and boarding a plane soon. His voice sounded closer.

Finally! The interruption I've been waiting for.