Letters From Home

So I am in full cleaning mode. I am moving like a energizer bunny getting things picked up and put away. I am getting rid of the "to be filed" piles. And as I'm doing this "Letters from Home," by John Michael Montgomery comes on and I pretty much lose it. :: Tears:: I mean full on bawling. Honestly it felt good. I haven't let myself just cry this whole deployment. I have been keeping my self so busy I didn't have the time to cry. Plus today the hubby is going on a pretty dangerous mission that will last about 4-5 days and I wont know how he is doing until he makes it back to the base. It just scares me when I am not able to hear from him at least once a day, even if its just a skype message to say that he is fine.

Well here is that damned song. If you have a soldier and never listened to it I highly recommend it. It says what most Mothers, Wifes and Fathers would!

My Dear Son, it is almost June,I hope this letter catches up to you, and finds you wellIts been dry but they’re calling for rain,And everything's the same ol’ same in Johnsonville

Your stubborn 'ol Daddy ain’t said too much,But I’m sure you know he sends his love,And she goes on,In a letter from home

I hold it up and show my buddies,Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy, and they all laugh,Like there’s something funny bout’ the way I talk,When I say: "Mama sends her best y’all"

I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,Pick up my gun an' get back to workAn' it keeps me driving me on,Waiting on letters from home

My Dearest Love, its almost dawnI’ve been lying here all night long wondering where you might beI saw your Mama and I showed her the ringMan on the television said something so I couldn’t sleepBut I’ll be all right, I’m just missing youAn' this is me kissing youXX’s and OO’s,

In a letter from homeI hold it up and show my buddies,Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy, and they all laugh,'Cause she calls me "Honey", but they take it hard,'Cause I don’t read the good parts

I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,Pick up my gun an' get back to workAn' it keeps me driving me on,Waiting on letters from home

Dear Son, I know I ain’t written,But sittin' here tonight, alone in the kitchen, it occurs to me,I might not have said, so I’ll say it nowSon, you make me proud I hold it up and show my buddies,Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy, but no one laughs,'Cause there ain’t nothing funny when a soldier criesAn' I just wipe me eyesI fold it up an' put it in my shirt,Pick up my gun an' get back to workAn' it keeps me driving me on,Waiting on letters from home