Stalking the mailman

I've become one of those slightly nutty ladies peering from behind the curtain as the mailman approaches.  Hopefully he has not noticed that I've become obsessed with his timing and each step as he carries news to each doorstep. .  Watching his every move as he works his way around to our house, at the very end of his lap around the block. 
We'd read  that the new soldiers were strongly "encouraged" to contact family sometime in the first 48 hours after arriving at base.  36 hours after watching Michael move out of our sight...we're waiting.
I'm terrified that our phones will all die.  Worried sick that our mailbox will fade from view and we'll miss "the call" or "the letter". 
Heading to work is a real dilemma...what if the call comes while my phone is in my locker.  What's Michael going to think if there's only voice mail to hear him?
I trust God..but I'm not so sure about Sprint and the US Postal service. 
Dragging my sleep deprived self to work on Friday morning I am discouraged, convinced that I going to miss the first call from our family soldier.  Disappointed at having to leave my post behind the curtain. 
My coworkers had put up with and supported my tears yesterday, but I was ill prepared for their greeting today...."do you want to go home?".  Well, duh!  My feet never touched the ground as I race out the door.
Fifteen minutes late my phone rings.
Time stopped as I heard the first news.  He's fine, has had no sleep, has no hair left and is full of holes from all the vaccinations he got yesterday.  Food is "not bad at all", and uniforms come tomorrow.  His voice is light and he sounds genuinely happy.  We part with I love you's and we're praying.  Wow.
In seconds it's over.

Now it's back to stalking the mailman.  Waiting and watching behind the curtain.
Living life as normally as possible, pretending not to notice the empty space in the house.

And finding joy in each precious day.