connection

lately i sat there and watched a couple of shows, oprah, glenn beck, o'reilly, president obama, etc...all talking about the ending of the war in 18 months, all troops home by end of twenty12.  wow, part of called the bluff, some of me pushed all in, but most of me just sat there...staring at the screen.

2 years

25 calendar months

2...3 birthdays i forget sometimes

2 christmas

2 thanksgiving

3 new years

742 days

all of that, all of it left over there.  good or bad?  perhaps both, mostly which though?

so much from toilet paper rolls on your head, nights in bunkers, hours in blood, laughter, tears, sorrow, joy, panic, happiness

two years plus of my life gone.  i often think of it like the torture device, the machine from princess bride...sucks your life away.  sure i am 29 but really i am 27 or perhaps even 37

with that said though, those two years are so much apart of me and is what connects me to so many

what to do...

coming around the corner

It is like you are standing on that remote railroad track, high in the Rockies over a ravine that drops into a quarry's lagoon of sort and off in the distance you hear it.  The only problem is that in reality, and currently at real time...it is only meters away.  Muffled by the rising rocks you don't realize that the engine is on top of you and there is only one way to...well...only one option.  

You leap.

What comes next?  I have no idea.  I do, that passion to write, the thoughts of sharing daily stories, old times, fun moments, sad ones, scary ones, real ones, and others that I don't even like bringing up from the depths.  But sitting down and putting to paper, screen, or rather blog at this point is harder then you might imagine.  Sometimes it is time, other times it is shear fear on the ability to transcribe what rumbles through the grey matter.  There are times where I don't remember putting the baby down for a nap.  Anna's frustration grows with each conversation she has to repeat because there is a... ravine where the conversation  took place.  She insists it is selective listening, perhaps at times she is right and for that honee, I am sorry.  But more often then not I don't hear the locomotive approaching and before you know it I have lept.  As I fall I see the faces, the bodies, the stories of all those I knew that have been lost, or of those black bags I have zipped closed.  Why is it I never forget the shear look of panic over my battle buddies face, or the appearance of all hope lost as we fight to stop the bleeding of a fellow "brother"?  Other times I am over taken by the laughter following a rocket attack and then sometimes the sound of Mia's first cry or the excitement and genuine love shown by Cora as she bounded down the stairs upon my return.  Leaping from the 4th stair, simply saying, "Daaadddyyy".  I don't know, I really don't know...  

"what honee?  I will be right there."

A new post...

I have been sitting here thinking for some time that perhaps it is time to open this back up, keep updated pics of the girls on here, local shots, and other pictures floating around.  But even more than that I have thought writing again.  I wouldn't ever call my self a Tom Sawyer...errr...I mean Mark Twain but it is something I enjoy doing.  So maybe the fingers need to cruise over the buttons once again...

A lot goes on here in the Hahn House, the girls have a new story every day, sometimes it changes with the hours, Anna keeps me on my toes in more ways then one...and most of those you don't get hear about.  Love you lady wife.  Not sure what that was.  There can always be anonymous work stories, wait...well you know what I mean.  I am diving into the Word once again and one way to keep myself accountable is to put my thoughts down.  I think I should.  

One of the biggest things I am contemplating again is writing a book.  I have two deployments in Iraq, an amazing family, a pretty solid yet normal life story, and I think I might consider writing a book on it.  I mean who wouldn't want to read about a Combat Male Nurse Veteran in West Point?  An old professor who has written a couple of literary works has offered help.  My good friend Riley has published a book of photography from our experience across the pond with the assistance of a peer and perhaps it is time to get some of my thoughts, stories, dreams, nightmares, day-mares, and other clouds of thought on paper.  But then again, it terrifies me at times.

Regardless, I sit her on the couch full of thought, time for bed, the beautiful wife is upstairs reading...and I think it just might be time.  So I grab the flint, pieces of wood and start banging the rocks together looking for a spark.  Stick around, it just might get warm.  Ok, that was horrible, I apologize for that...never to happen again!

Local Drive