DATE: Thursday, March 13, 1997              TAG: 9703120449

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B3   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: MILITARY 

SOURCE: BY JACEY ECKHART 

                                            LENGTH:   60 lines

THE HOME FRONT: A TOO-BRIEF RENDEZVOU, TOO FAR AWAY FROM HOME

``Scusi, signora,'' I said to a woman in a long mink. ``Catania?''

``Non,'' she answered. ``Milan.'' She breezed past me, disappearing into the crowded Rome terminal. I sighed and craned my neck to eye passengers spilling from another gate, wishing I knew when Brad was scheduled to arrive. My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. My insides clenched with anxiety. I wanted to run to the restroom, but I was afraid I'd miss him - and delay our rendezvous at the halfway mark of his deployment.

Suddenly, he was there, looming behind another passenger, big and American in his denim jacket. I took a breath and waved.

I wanted to run to him and fling myself into his arms, but that is not Brad's way. Instead, he greeted me perfunctorily with a quick kiss, then dragged me off to a secluded corner to kiss me until I was breathless.

I dropped into a seat on the train into Rome, so tired I had to close my eyes, so excited that I could not sleep. I resorted to my mother's trick of closing one eye at a time.

``You aren't going to sleep, are you?'' he asked.

``No. No, I'm not,'' I said. ``We only have six days together!''

``Don't think about that,'' he said. He curled his arm around me. My head nestled on his shoulder, the denim rough and familiar on my cheek.

Over the following days we were overwhelmed by the city. We stood beneath the hand of God in the Sistine Chapel, marveled at the Senate and the Baths of Caracalla. We walked everywhere.

And we talked. All the conversation missed in the past three months spilled out slowly and sweetly. We talked about Kelsey's report card, about repairs to Brad's ship and about how our 3-year-old son thinks he is Dinonychus, ``the dinosaur wif the tewwible claw.''

On our last evening in Rome, we decided to splurge at our favorite restaurant. We ordered prosciutto and cheese, spaghetti with seafood, cannelloni, great quantities of Chianti. We ate grilled swordfish and calamari fried in a delicate batter.

I looked for the check. We had so much to do before our early-morning flights. ``Wait,'' Brad said. ``Let's have coffee and dessert.''

``You can eat more?'' I asked.

He hesitated, looking handsome and a little sad. ``I just don't want this to end.'' We lingered over cappuccino as other tables emptied.

What did we talk about? I can't remember. Dinonychus, maybe. A book he'd read. I know we didn't talk about how quickly the six days had passed. We didn't talk about the long months ahead. We didn't talk about how crazy it is for people who love each other to spend so much time apart.

At the airport he walked me past guards with submachineguns slung on their backs. I couldn't stop crying. Brad pulled me into a corner before we walked through security. I clung to his jacket and kissed him long and hard enough to make a permanent impression.

After my passport was checked, I looked back at him, watching him shoulder his heavy bag. And I hoped that this would be the last goodbye we'd have to say for a long, long time. MEMO: Jacey Eckhart is married to a sailor with the Nassau Amphibious

Ready Group, which deployed to the Med with the Theodore Roosevelt

Battle Group in November.

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