There are many forms of thirst. ~William Langewiesche

I've tried to be flippant about Wednesday.

I really have. But the truth I can no longer hide is that Wednesdays are serious business. They have a gravitational pull so strong that they drag Tuesday down a bit. Maybe sometimes a little more than a bit.

Wednesday is the day that my mailbox- the real one outside with its red flag and numbers- is faithfully open just a crack from my mailman not knowing to lift then pull. Wednesday, dear friends, is letter day.

Before this all truly began, I had an idea that the hand-written, once-weekly letters would be romantic in a way. Not so much their contents, but just the novelty of the envelope, the inked words, and the fact that my often stoic SquidRecruit cared enough to use his rest time to share his week with me. I had no idea just how much they would come to mean. Once a week I get his thoughts passed along, when for almost ten years I've been used to hearing them multiple times a day. Want a crash course in not taking your spouse's words, thoughts, opinions for granted? Give boot camp a spin.

As precious as these letters are, they adhere to the law of diminishing return. By Tuesday, you really have pored over every detail, every possible tone, learned his bunkmate's name and sleeping habits by heart. You get this antsy feeling. The letter that made the whole world a better place six days ago is no longer adequately quenching your insatiable thirst for all things informational and anecdotal. You need more. And really soon, or you just may  fall out in a room full of people from communication dehydration. It's a serious condition. So you sit, or work, or play, or blog as normal but inside you are just fidgeting, twiddling, wondering when Mr. Postman will look and see if there's a letter waiting for me. The Marvelettes know what I'm talkin' about.

Then it comes- God love that precious USPS worker!!- and you so carefully steam the envelope open  tear that poor envelope to pieces with shaking hands to see the most wonderful handwritten "I love you"s and stories and interesting new phrases picked up from colorful RDCs, and you forget how parched you felt. This one will sustain you more than six days! No way your skin will be crawling in six days!

...except that you can clearly see what day of the week I've written this on.

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I miss you, SR. Your words, your time, your effort- I see it and I cherish it. Thanks for taking what little bit of time you have to let me and the kiddos know just what we mean to you.