Time Warp

When I was a child, time passed slowly. A school year was as close as a mortal being could experience infinity. As an adult, time speeded up considerably other than those long bits of giving birth.

When your child goes to war, time does funny things. You hear from him and everything is fine. A few days of silence go by and all of a sudden each day is longer. Each moment more finely chiseled in its clarity. You find yourself praying more frequently as though whatever might possibly have happened would somehow be erased.

It's in the quiet times that those in regular communication begin to ask, "Have you heard from him?" "No, you?" The tension is heightened by the affirmation that contact has not been made. In my own situation I can't help but wonder are there people trying to contact me at my old address, the one the Army has on record? Nah, the phone number is still the same. They could call. So in the meantime we check Stryker news every day (whew, nothing new) and wait for a call. Maybe today. Good grief, is it only 9am? I feel like I've been waiting by the phone for hours.