Small Things Count More Than We Think

Sometimes the things we miss most are the things we never think to photograph.

It's funny. When someone is away for eight months, you think you'll miss the big things the most. I came to find that what I missed most wasn't what I'd expected.

My husband is in the military. He left for a deployment last October, and just got back last weekend. About eight months without him. And yeah, just having your spouse gone for a weekend or a week can be tough. And yes, eight months can be tougher just because of the duration. You miss the presence, the things that are their "jobs" around the house, their half of your relationship, the physical proximity. All of those things are significant to the experience of an absence of a service member.

He's been deployed before. I've experienced all the main things you miss just like before. But somehow this time around I was tuned in a little more acutely to the details of his absence. The everyday bits that make up daily life. The little things that make our life together "our" life.

I'm not ashamed to say that I'm a "husband's girl". He's my person. Nobody gets me like he does, makes me laugh as hard, puts up with my quirks (some quirks are not as charming as others, so I've got to give him his props!), or is as fiercely protective of me. And he's my favorite person to do "nothing special" with. And that's what I really missed during this deployment. The small things, the tiny routines, the "nothing special".

We literally have deep dive conversations about random "inconsequentials". We have silences that can hang in the air between us, without either of us feeling the need to fill it with jibber-jabber. We scroll through Netflix deciding what to watch first, like there's a strategy to it. I missed that.

I feed the people I love. I missed cooking for two, the meal planning, and the preparation of a meal that I know he loves (and I enjoy, too), and that he'll be happy that I made. I absolutely can't stand cooking just for me - seems like a waste of time, and I end up eating simple things (omelets and cheeseburgers are my go-to's!). I missed the grocery shopping for two - and for us that means shopping together, and making the rounds through the store, looking for new and interesting items not on our shopping list.

I missed the "background noise" he enjoys as he works on things around the house, usually music or videos. I missed him chasing Zelda around the house (two sets of thundering footsteps, followed by his laughter and her exuberant squeaks), the pursuit very often taking a turn into my space as I'm working, leaving poofs of German Shepherd fluff and displaced area rugs in their wake.

And can we just talk about how joyful Zelda is now that her favorite human is home? She gets her adventures around the neighborhood back. She gets her games back. She gets the person who speaks fluent German Shepherd back. Dogs can smile, and she's been absolutely cheesing ever since he returned.

I missed being able to just speak to him because he's here, and not have to do time zone math to make sure it wasn't 3am for him. And I certainly don't miss the long distance charges, and the work-arounds we used to avoid them by using spotty wi-fi signals. I missed hearing his voice in person. I missed his boots on the floor, his toothbrush by the sink, the kitchen cabinet doors he leaves open when he looks for a glass, and finding missing household items in the random places he set them down after using them.

Big things are easy to miss, like who's going to check the car when it makes a weird noise (because he's got automotive mechanic experience and I don't), or do the handyman things around the house that I'm not able to easily do (because he's taller and stronger than me). But the small things that make our life ours were the things that left the biggest gaps.

And this experience got me thinking: how much of the "small things" do people really take for granted when it comes to our everyday lives with those we love, our neighbors, our co-workers, our pets? Physical absence is easy to spot. But what about those little details that make them a part of our life experience? The incidentals that, when they're missing, become significant? Maybe even precious?

Mission accomplished. The little things are home again.

We don't notice the small things often, because they're just always there. They form the fabric of our lives, and we get used to them... and then they become visible when they're absent.

I think what I'm taking away from this deployment is the realization that the "nothing special" moments and the small things are actually very special. They're the tiny fibers that weave the color and texture into the tapestry of a life.