Giddy

The thing is, we knew for a year before he left that Joel was going to go to war. And then he was there for a year and a half. So I've spent the last two and a half years having every waking thought tinged with the idea that my brother might die at war. Those of you with loved ones, truly loved ones and not just passing acquaintances or friends or the guy who cuts my hair's older brother, know exactly what I'm talking about. It doesn't ever stop, not for a single moment, and not for as long as it lasts. I've had other friends, good friends, over in Iraq. And I was afraid for them. And I've known lots of people who went over. And I've known lots of people who've known lots of people who went over. And I was afraid for all of them. But it's just not the same as having your brother at war.

The stress of it was really getting to me in the beginning. And then coupled with the loss of my grandparents last year... well, I was really grieving and bitchy for a good while there last year. Eventually, you get used to your standard state of being. I almost forgot that it is not normal to spend every second for years fixated on someone's life-threatening circumstance. I almost forgot that the way I've been feeling is not normal at all.

So now he's home. My mom called me yesterday to tell me he was in Germany, and I got the email this morning saying he's on a flight right now on his way to Alaska. Mom said yesterday that she feels like she's finally exhaling. That's not even the half of it. I feel so happy today. I've been bouncing around, and dancing and making faces at little kids and generally feeling and being delightful. I thought... oh wow I'm so happy today. And I am. But... I realized a bit ago that that was what normal was not too long ago. I used to just feel like this. Not always, but often enough for it to be normal.

How strange. And how wonderful.

My brother is home. And I am happy. It's fantastic. It's fantastic beyond belief.