Every family has their touchstones. When my Dad would come home from work at sunset, I would run to the carport and check his pockets for change, which he would kindly bestow. He would hold my hands, and I would put my feet on his thighs and flip over, scattering my loot all over the ground.
When my husband leaves for a tour, we drive en famille to the designated meeting spot. The small children are in their PJs, as we know we’ll linger past bedtime. The bus waits in the hotel parking lot, the generator humming in a familiar way. The kids pile into the box that will be their Dad’s home for the next few weeks, excepting stints backstage and hotel dayrooms. They’re elated at the satellite TV, as we’ve banned cable at home and just watch DVDs. And, they get Roy Rogers, lolling in the front lounge, blissfully chomping on french fries and watching SpongeBob Squarepants.
They explore the bus, running up and down the narrow aisle that connects the front and the back lounge, with skinny bunks lining either side. They learned to walk on buses like this one, little hands reaching out to bunks to steady themselves. This is what they know. Each night, after the show, when all the gear has been loaded out and the money settled, band and crew pile into their bunks and go to sleep as the rest of us start our day. When they wake up, they’re somewhere else.
Because it’s never been typical, the kids seem to do OK with our schedule. When my husband leaves, they fall into a different, truncated rhythm, the kind where they might get one bedtime story instead of two, or eat cereal for breakfast instead of pancakes and bacon. When we cut back to one grownup, the essentials crystallize. Sometimes we don’t sweat the details. We go about our days, and we have fun. But there is an empty chair, and all of the time we’re watching out of the corner of our eyes for this.
For all the mamas out there whose husbands are gone on much more sober (no pun intended:) missions than this one, thank you for sharing your husbands with our country. It’s hard to have mine gone sometimes, and I know he’s safe and doing what he loves. I so respect those of you who live with not only the absence of your man, but the constant uncertainty of his situation. Thank you for holding down the fort.
Here’s my favorite tour video and latest obsession, Kings of Leon “Use Somebody”:
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