Anticipation
As I leaned tiredly on the railing of the bow of the S.S. St. James, I could hear my good friend and ally Chief Petty Officer Paul H. Jordan pacing and counting the time. The more he stared at his rusted pocket watch, the more excited he became. Suddenly, he looked out across the sea towards our destination: Augusta, Maine or as I like to call it, ‘home’. Tomorrow, both Paul and I were retiring and after 30 years of service in the U.S. Navy, we both deserved it.
It had been a little more than 2 ½ years since I had been home. As the S.S. St. James slowly glided across the Northern Atlantic homeward, I began to ponder what had changed since my departure 2 ½  years ago. At first, joining the military seemed adventurous and honorable, which it was, however, it was also much more. It is more dangerous and demanding then I expected. When I was a barely an adult, at 22 or 23 years of age, I joined the army to help my country take down the Axis powers. After just a week on the front lines, I regretted my decision to sign up. Scores and scores of good men were killed weekly. I thought about the deceased soldiers’ families and how they were dealing with their losses. It was then in my life I wondered if my family was worried sick over me every night. I wanted to find a safer job to put my family’s worries at ease, but I could not find a job anywhere else.
It was about then Paul leisurely strolled in my direction. He leaned on the railing next to me and said casually, “You’re doin’ it again, aren’t you Scott?”
Paul was my best friend. Paul wanted to be like his uncle and join the U.S. Navy ever since he was a kid. Similarly, I decided to follow my father’s footsteps and join the U.S. Navy a couple weeks after Paul did. It was my first year in the navy when I met a fellow beanpole named Paul Jordan. We have fought in at least 3 or 4 wars together over the years.
After many tries to regain my attention I finally spoke up and said to Paul, “Yeah, I am. I just can’t help it. Every night I think about them.”
“I know where you’re comin’ from, Scott. Bein’ away from who you love all the time. It’s an awful thing, really.” After a few minutes of Paul rambling on and on, I grew bored and my mind began to drift elsewhere. In my defense, this was probably the 200th time we have had a conversation like this one: missing family, reminiscing the more simple days before we signed up, and whatnot.
After growing bored with my thoughts and bored with Paul, I finally said, “Paul, I know you’re just trying to help me out, but…,” My voice trailed off and I slipped back into my thoughts. I kept thinking about my family. I could not help it. I kept thinking about my two sons and how much of their lives I missed out on like their high school football games, or their little plays they performed in grade school, playing with them at the park, and all the other fun, special moments of their youth. I kept thinking about my wife. I kept thinking about how much I miss her loving smile. I think about how often I miss holding her in my arms. After several more minutes of me feeling sorry for myself, Paul got my attention again.
“Scott, you’re doing it again. I can’t hardly ever have a conversation goin’ with ya when you’re always driftin’ off! I wish that you would listen when I try to talk to ya. Just once I wish you’d finish your bloody sentences!” Slowly turning away from his anger, Paul began scratching his graying hair which he only did when in deep thought. Neither of us uttered a word for several moments. We were both experiencing the same emotion that everyone in the military feels every now and again. It did not feel quite like boredom or depression. It was generally a bit more moderate on the emotional spectrum. However, after any one person feeling this emotion again and again, day after day, week after week, month after month it would grow tiring. I would say it would be safe to call it ‘anticipation’.
“Hey, uh, Scott, I ‘spose I should apologize for my anger. It’s just that it’s hard on me too. I don’t want you thinkin’ you are the only one in the world with this problem with missin’ your family. I-I just don’t wanna hear you complainin’ all the time.” Paul’s voice started to waiver which only occurred when he was sad which a very rare thing to witness. “I got a family too y’know.”
This was truly anticipation. We were waiting for the boat to enter the harbor. We were waiting for the warm, comforting environment that comes with home and hearth. We were waiting to see our wives and children again. We were waiting to see old friends again. We were waiting to visit the local pub and shoot darts, play some pool, and enjoy a good steak. We were waiting to get back to a normal life.
“How do you do it?” I inquired desperately yearning for an answer. “How do you handle being away from family? How do you contain and control your emotions so well?” It was about then I broke down internally, but I tried my best to not let it show.
“I don’t know how I do it, Scott.”
“Wait, w-what do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”
“What I mean to say is that I don’t know how I deal with missin’ my family. It’s an awful feeling longing to see your family again. Then there’s that weird feelin’ ya get when you’re home. It’s that feeling that ya get when ya know you’re goin’ away again. Then you start waiting for that awful feeling to go away. It’s like a cycle.” There was another brief break in the conversation. We both stared off in the same direction. I could tell we were thinking about the same thing: home. The wait was killing us. It was the anticipation that was driving us both mad. We both wanted all of it to end. We both wanted to go home.
“Y-y’know somethin’,” remarked Paul optimistically. “I got a good feelin’ about this.”
“About what?” I inquired. To my surprise, it was Paul who did not finish his statement this time. I had to wait a few seconds for Paul to respond.
“I don’t quite know what I’ve got a good feelin’ about. I just feel like things are gonna get better for us.”
“Hey, Paul,” I asked timidly. “Could you check the time for me?” Once again, Paul pulled out his rusted pocket watch and stared at its face for a moment.
“I’d say we got at least another half-hour before we’re in port.”
I let out a deep, heavy sigh as we both trudged toward the very front of the ship. The sky was a bright mix of yellows and oranges that was so beautiful it was worthy to be compared with paintings created by some of the most famous and skilled Renaissance men. We both then leaned on the railing again facing the glorious sunset.
Then, we waited. We waited like we have for years. That was all we could do. Then it hit me. When the idea hit me, it was not like some great philosophical revelation, but I did feel some sort of relief by what I had discovered. If I was going crazy because I was missing my family, then I knew that the wait was worth it because I was waiting for something worthy of waiting for. Even though I was away from my family because of my job, it was because of my job that I can keep my country and family safe. So, if I have to wait months at a time to see family, I am beyond grateful that I can protect my family while I wait.