I sometimes feel I am caught in this in-between life. A life of a military spouse and the life of a civilian spouse. Sometimes life gets normal enough, if only for a moment, for me to forget that my husband is a Marine. I sometimes find myself yearning for that normalcy. A house somewhere far from here, a 9-5 job, dinner with my husband every night.

But this life. This crazy never-knowing-when-he's-coming-or-going, nights-weeks-or-months-apart, moving-and-never-quite-feeling-settled life. This life is....Opening the car door and finding my husband's helmet and flak jacket. Watching helicopters take off, fly around, and land all from the comfort of my front porch. Helicopters coming in for a landing buzzing right over my car so close I think I might be able to touch them. A sea of green running in formation. That slick blue uniform with gold buttons and white pants. Insignia in every drawer of the desk. That leather aviator jacket in the coat closet. A green cover on the end table that tells me he's home. Last name and rank on the front of the house. Artillery firing at random times of day or night. The days when American flags line the light posts adorned with yellow ribbons welcoming them home. This life comes with a sense of adventure and a calling.

What is "normalcy" anyway? I am ever so thankful for this life. This man. My Marine.

Everyone has a story. This one just happens to be mine.