Even though there’s snow on the ground, the rain came Sunday. In other times and other places (Fort Jackson in March, for example), it would be a cold rain, but it’s not so cold in the context of a Minnesota February. Still, it was a cool, weak, mournful sort of rain – moodily atmospheric but not soaking. It rained while I began to load my belongings into the Jeep for transport, and it made me sad. Some of that was due to my impending departure, but also because I was leaving alone and not with her.

How lonely was it for her, then, to shuttle her belongings from “our” home?

Inside, the debris of both our lives – a little mingled, but largely seperate – is a reminder of what I see as my failure. Failure as a man – failure to secure and maintain what I considered to be most important in my life. Maybe it wasn’t my fault, specifically, but how can this not be a reflection upon myself?


The question arises: how many chances? How much of a virtue is forgiveness? At what point does forgiveness become foolishness? Ah, but that’s a topic for another entry…doesn’t really belong here.

The personal has intruded on the blog again. Soon it’ll be full of IEDs and M16s and HMMWVs and laptops and sand and hopefully little of the mushy stuff…