THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, April 19, 1995 TAG: 9504190436
SECTION: MILITARY NEWS PAGE: A8 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: LETTERS FROM HOME
LENGTH: Medium: 60 lines
Dear B.G.,
It's over. Sometimes it felt like it would never end. But Friday, when we drove toward the piers and saw the ship nosing in, we knew it was really over.
It's funny to see what folks do to celebrate the end of a cruise. There was the guy hanging over the side, waving to his kids on the pier and bobbling two Winnie the Pooh balloons in the air. Did somebody send them to him in a box? Can you buy Pooh balloons in Palma?
And the mom on the pier, pushing her baby in a stroller - she'd decked herself out in a crushed red velvet gown and sequins in her hair. The baby had on regular, middle-of-the-day clothes.
There was a guy in a lion suit. Another fellow dressed like Snoopy. And signs, signs, signs everywhere, ``Welcome Home Mark!,'' ``Hi Mommy!'' and something like, ``Hey, Baby, I've got the motor, You've got the key. Come on down and start my engine.''
Maybe it happens every time, but Friday I heard the cheers after the mooring lines were shot across the gap between ship and home. And how about the shout that went up after the sailor with the sledge hammer made a small correction to the ship's side so one of the ladders would fit.
And was it windy enough? But not many people noticed the cold - blue lips, Sunday dresses, bare legs and all.
Your worst fears didn't come true. Our rascal knew you almost right away. There was that instant when you first came close that she hid her face. But by the time we'd walked halfway down the pier, she knew that this was Daddy-in-the-pictures come to life.
It was good to show you home again. Good to see you enjoy the green grass, the azaleas in bloom, the neighbors waving. And it was fun to unwrap three sets of birthday presents - yours, mine and the rascal's - and to eat bunny cake with green candles stuck in its ears your first night home.
Of course, there was the laundry. It smelled like jet fuel, looked like gray swiss cheese. No wonder you asked for an emergency set of new underwear when you got back. This stuff was ready for the trash.
You spent the weekend getting to know your daughter again. And recovering from getting to know your daughter again. ``She's an active little thing,'' you said Saturday night in what I considered a huge understatement.
You were surprised she talks so much and that she suddenly behaves in restaurants. Well, it hasn't been so sudden, we've worked on it. It's not consistent yet, either, but we're getting there.
It's good to have you home. There's somebody to wind the clock each week. Somebody to start the other car. Somebody to watch movies with. Somebody to take walks with. Somebody to wake up next to in the morning. Somebody to go to bed with at night. Sleepy yet, big guy?
Love, Quiche MEMO: The author is the wife of a crew member from the Eisenhower, which
returned Friday from a six-month cruise.
by CNB