Day 145 Week 20

Well the gathering in the pub was brilliant. Over twenty people turned out on a very wet, bleak, work-night to toast his home coming and cannot thank them enough for yet another example of their unstinting support. He looked gorgeous but thin, and very tanned and goodness the desert combats are cool. Dear friend commented he looked more like he'd been on holiday than at war.

I arrived slightly late as I'd lost my glove whilst walking across the Common. R rang and demanded 'where are you', and when I told her she just said 'why the hell are you looking for a glove?'. Thought it would have been perfectly obvious. I'd dropped one when my cousin rang, lost, to ask for directions, and one thing our family is imbued with is a tremendous sense of superstition, and to have your glove picked up by another is the most dreadful bad luck. Apparently it stems from the days when gentlemen challenging for a duel would hand the aforementioned article over as a means of provoking the dispute. Nothing was to ruin this evening, real or perceived.

Anyway finally arrived at the pub with the glove and cousin found, and walked in to the old 'he's not here, he got fed up with waiting' routine at which point he jumped out, roared like a tiger and hugged me like a bear. Oh my, it was one of the most wonderful things that has happened to me for years. Sobbed and laughed simultaneously, and put my arms around him and kissed, and kissed his cheek. Could not believe I'd actually got my baby back safe and sound. In truth my daily dread for months had been that I would never ever see him again, or that he would be so completely altered that in effect it wasn't the same person at all. Just kept looking at him, not fully believing he was really there, and had to keep checking I wasn't imagining the whole thing.

C was lauded like the mini-hero to us he is, and drinks bought for him in abundance. I retired home at the respectable hour of eight thirty, and thanked the Lord for the day given. C, R and the other young ones went on and painted the town red, and I went to bed without the lead weight of misery for the first time in a very long time.

Woke up with a start at six this morning from a horrible dream which included the children's father, to a complete lack of vision and head split in half by a metaphorical dagger. Migraine. Took tablets, rang work and eventually managed to sleep it off and drive to college. Everyone so sweet, it seems I looked wonderful despite several hours of pain, and was told I hadn't stopped smiling since yesterday lunchtime. It's only when you're rid of being care-worn that you realise just how care-worn you'd become.

I know he has to go back, but my this feels good.

C went up to London this morning to see fellow soldier who's back 'out' tomorrow. H sent a message saying 'tell him not to spend all his money - we're buying that house next year. Well he can get rid of a couple of grand if he must', and R been lounging around all day in recovery.

Sadly on the way home the harshness of reality bit and heard the news and an airman and a soldier from 4 Rifles have been taken, may they RIP. When I spoke to C it transpired the rifleman was one of the guys of the friend he was visiting up in town. It's such a cruel, cruel war.

Fellow soldier's Mum said enjoy everything and make the most of the good when you have it.

With the help of God, I shall.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x