hug -- August 8

I don't even know where to start.

Yesterday was another bad day. Is it because everything is finally sinking in? Is it because it's been a year exactly since I've visited MeuAmor and his family? Is it because I'm PMSing and I don't realize it?

I don't know. It could be anything.

The day started off with the slowest PAP smear I've ever had and ended with me moving both my own bedding and EnglishProf's bedding to the downstairs bay while waiting for them to bring EnglishProf back from the hospital. Long day, no matter how you look at it.

My coach pulled me off the firing line. I didn't qualify. Five full magazines were returned to the ammo point. It's a long story that I don't feel like telling, and every time I tell someone it just sounds more and more stupid. But it's not stupid, I'm not the only person that has had that kind of reaction, and I know that.

EnglishProf's story is shorter. She was coming off the firing line after night fire, felt sleepy, and slipped down the wooden stairs -- weapon, helmet, body armor and all. They took her away in an ambulance. She came back on crutches and with an air cast. We set up camp in the lower bay, where there's a handicap-accessible bathroom and showers. It's only the two of us.

Her boyfriend is visiting now, which is hopefully lifting her spirits. I'm trying to sit on my bunk and be invisible. All I can hear is the sound of their voices as they talk to each other. I like him, and I'm happy for her. Especially since he is able to be here with her right now.

I still want that hug.