Coming Home

Kirk used to joke that the Kosovo war ruined his Italian vacation. It also played hell with our holidays. He missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, Easter, and three out of the five family birthdays. As soon as the war actually started he was told he would be indefinitely extended, and for a while we weren't sure if that meant weeks or months.

When he did get the call back home it happened quickly - I had only a day's warning. But that was enough. He was coming home.

I picked up the kids from school without telling them what we were going to do. They griped about doing errands almost all the way to the airport when they realized what must be going on. The fact that I was wearing the dress Kirk sent from Italy should possibly have made them wonder a bit as well.

When you're waiting for the most important person in the world, doesn't it always seem that they're the last one off the plane?

He had a couple of awards, a handful of souvenirs, and a set of stories that he would only slowly begin to tell. Things had changed, but being Kirk, the changes were good.