Naomi had developed migraines and didn’t want to talk.
Sometimes I went more than two weeks without speaking directly to my wife.
I hated it.
But deployments had a way of making strange situations feel temporarily acceptable.
You tell yourself you’ll fix everything when you get home.
So when I learned I could leave early, I didn’t call anyone.
I bought a ticket to Atlanta, rented a car, and drove toward the small town outside Augusta where my family lived.
I pictured Naomi opening the door.
I imagined dropping my bags and seeing her sprint across the porch.
I even stopped at a roadside florist and bought sunflowers because they had been her favorite since our first date.
Then I reached the address.
And almost drove past it.
The old one-story brick house I remembered was gone.
In its place stood a completely renovated property with black shutters, stone columns, a wide circular driveway, and a new detached garage.
