What's my name again?

The other day, I was filling out a form at work and I signed my maiden name. I remember looking at it and thinking, "Why does that look weird?" It finally dawned on me that my last name is no longer that last name. (Duh. Married!) Because I'm a traditional sort of gal, I legally changed my last name to my husband's. I didn't even move my maiden name to my middle name, as my big sister had done when she got married. While I love my father a great deal and carried his last name with pride for thirty years, I felt the need to symbolically (and, eventually, literally) leave his household and cleave (now that's a Biblical term if I ever wrote one!) to my husband. It struck me that, had I left my name the way I originally wrote it, no one would know it was me. Oh, sure. I'm the only "Sally" that works there (and, really, I'm always the only "Sally") so they would have figured it out, but it was so weird to think that the coworkers who know me now only know me as me. Now. (Does that make sense? It makes sense in my head.) It's like in the movies where the high school girl moves to a different city/state and attends a brand-new school and gets to completely reinvent herself. (New clothes! More makeup! Ditch the glasses!) Except, in my case, it's not really like the movies because I did not reinvent myself upon moving to Southern California. (I didn't even do it when I was the girl being moved to a different city and attending a new high school where no one knew me. Maybe I just like myself too much to change? Also, it seems like a lot of work and I say no thank you to that.) But, maybe you consider an obsessive love of all things Disney, wearing Uggs when it's not really cold out, and smothering guacamole on everything, a reinvention?

I'm probably wearing my Uggs, too.

On the one hand, it made me laugh when I wrote my maiden name. It felt like a ditzy blonde moment (even though I stopped dying my hair years ago so I'm not really blonde-blonde anymore). But, on the other hand, it made me a little sad. Has this Single Wife (sallyannemcbridetrademark) thing gone on too long? It's only been five months and I'm already signing my maiden name! Have I forgotten what it's like to be a wife? My husband sends me photos of himself sometimes and I think, "Oh, right. That's what he looks like." (I always follow that thought up with "He's cute!") I don't like looking at a picture of my husband and having a small part of me feel like I'm looking at a stranger. I've been seeing his face for almost eleven years so I have it pretty much memorized. But now that he's been gone for SO long? I feel like I'm forgetting little pieces of it.

He looks exactly the same!

(Well, probably. I'm pretty sure that's him.) 

Now, I don't want to be too dramatic. He's not dead. He's coming back to me. (Soon! Thank you, Jesus!) When I see him at the airport for the first time, I'll definitely know it's him. But I'm starting to forget what his hug feels like. And his kiss. And I can't remember what he smells like (unless I smell his soap which still sits in the shower). (And I do.) (Don't judge me.) We have a joke that every time I pass the base, I'm going to stop and have one of the Marines give me a hug. They all look pretty similar in uniform anyway, right? (This potential scenario makes me laugh. I'm not sure the husband thinks it's too funny.) I haven't done it. ...Yet. It is a little disheartening to think that when we have kids, they will probably go through these same feelings and will be too little to understand the bigger picture. (Heck, I understand the bigger picture and I still get upset about it!) It's all for the greater good, right? (Yep. Can't wait to explain that concept to a child.)

But the smiles on these faces help. They remind me that he's gone for a good reason and he's fighting the good fight.

And not a rock thrower in the bunch!

(And then? That tiny selfish part of me? It says, "Screw you, kids! I want my husband!" But you didn't hear me say that. That little part of me is buried deep. Way deep.)