Being married to a soldier is hard. It’s even harder when said soldier will sometimes come home from a mission so overwhelmed he won’t speak for days. It’s why you learnt sign language, it allows you to communicate with your husband even on his worst days.

Roach, or Gary as you know him, has been on a mission that you’re sure will leave him nonverbal for a long while. The communication between the two of you has been sparse since he’s barely even had time to sleep. It’s hard. You don’t know anything besides the fact that he’s still alive. Or at least the military hasn't told you otherwise. You’d think that living in military housing would mean that news gets to you faster but it doesn’t.

One time when Gary was in a military hospital a few hours away it took three days for the military to get their shit together and tell you. So you’ve learnt to live despite the uncertainty and fear. You’ve learnt to sleep with his side of the bed cold, learnt to sleep knowing that his side may never be warm again. It was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done and you can only imagine how hard actually losing him would be.

The military’s incapability in delivering news in a timely manner is why you never know when your husband will be back. Most times he’s later than anticipated, once coming home over a month late and sometimes he’s only a few days late. You can’t ever remember your husband being home early, let alone several weeks early like he now finds himself being.

Gary could hear music playing in the kitchen from the moment he walked through the front door. He assumed that you were making yourself dinner and using the music as a way to ignore the silence in your shared home. He quietly sets his rucksack down and takes his time taking his boots off. It gives him a moment to breathe and just get used to being home again. He makes his way to the kitchen silently, allowing himself a moment to watch you as you hum along to the music before coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.