Four months ago I blogged about this year being "the year of workups". We've been pretty lucky in that things have started slowly and we have a few shorter periods of time away before things get crazy. Like a slow drip drip drip to prepare for the deluge that will inevitably hit us later this spring and summer.

Work ups inevitably stir up memories and anxiety for me. It is pretty easy to live my life day in and day out without a care in the world and then *bam* I remember why this life can make me jittery and things start to unravel a bit in my mind.

Almost exactly 7 years ago, in the midst of work ups almost exactly like these, a helicopter went down in Fallon, NV during a training exercise that my husband was flying in. It was my husband's first brush with death up close - in the plane they were there, communicating and participating - and then *poof* no contact. And it was his first experience planning a mission with a group of guys that didn't come back for the debrief. A learning experience both for him and for me. It was also one of the first times I saw a headline and held my breath because the type of aircraft (Seahawk) just happened to share a name with my husband's squadron at the time (the Seahawks). A coincidence that was absolutely and totally paralyzing while I wasn't in contact with John.

I've said it a million times, writing this blog is cathartic. I have come to appreciate the military spouse following I have and I do try to keep everything pretty upbeat and (hopefully) helpful. But I am also a real military spouse, and as we inch closer to deployment I can't promise everything will be neat and brave. I get scared. And when I get scared, I often write.

Thanks for listening, I appreciate you all out there.