It's been a week since Glenn has gotten home, and it feels like every day is truly a blessing. Things are getting back to normal; Glenn is back at work for a few more days and then he is taking leave so we can move into our house.

The day Glenn came home seemed pretty surreal. I had a hard time believing he was actually coming home. He was coming in late Wednesday night or very early Thursday morning, after flying from Iraq to Kuwait to Europe then finally to the US, and then taking a bus from LA, where they were flying in, down to MCAS Miramar. By 11 pm Wednesday night I was ready to go, but I was still waiting for the call from Glenn to tell me to get in the car and head to Miramar. Long story short: The next 90+ minutes of waiting were among the most tedious of my life, but he finally called, and I headed out into the cold, foggy early morning. As I drove I thought about how I had always pictured picking him up in the sunshine with our boys beside me. But the end result was still the same; after 6 months, Glenn was coming home, and nothing else mattered.

I got to the base and after a little trouble found where I was supposed to go. I found a parking spot and followed a group of people through a set of doors into a room that was set up with folding chairs and tables. People were milling about; solo wives and girlfriends, wives holding small children, and a few tots toddling around. I thought about how maybe I should have brought the boys after all, but then figured Jeff would probably either be asleep in the stroller or cranky because he was tired.

I sat down in one of the chairs, and after about 30 seconds, a woman carrying a baby in a baby carrier across her chest came through the door leading from the flightline and announced that the bus was at Miramar's front gate. Finally, they were here, after 6+ months away from their families and everything they know and love, after 3 days of nothing but travel in dirty cammies, they were home. We filed outside, waiting to see the headlights of the buses. I stood and side-stepped back and forth, trying to keep warm in the chilly early morning, looking around at all the wives and friends and other Marines who had come to welcome our heroes home. I watched people taking pictures and wished I had brought my camera.

Finally, we saw headlights approaching. Three buses roared up and parked on the other side of the barricade as people cheered. It seemed like it took a while for the Marines to start getting off the bus, but when they starting filing off I peered over the crowd's heads looking for Glenn. Everybody looked the same! I watched until the last person got off the bus, but did not see him. I finally saw him a few minutes later as he was about to walk right by me on the way to the bathroom. We hugged for a long time, and then he had to take off again, lost in the crowd of Marines again, to sign in, participate in the "96 brief," and then to get his bags. While waiting, I watched as a truck pulled up and then as a few Marines opened up the back and started to place all the lookalike seabags into neat rows on the ground.

I have to say, one of the greatest feelings of my life was seeing those buses pull up and being there with all of the eager and excited family members and friends. It was like the anticipation of waiting for a celebrity to pull up, but a million times better. These were our own celebrities. They were our husbands and sons and friends and fathers, who left the comfort of their home and family to live and work in a foreign place to fight for our freedom. There is no job on earth more noble than this.