Heh. I knew better than to get my hopes up and get excited. I just knew it. Kenny just called me about a half hour ago. As soon as I saw the familiar Air Force number I knew it would be crappy news. He always calls at night, so for him to call about nine hours early meant something was up. He started the call with, “It’s not my fault.”
And it’s not, and I know that. They’re delaying his departure by a day because of the hurricane, which I whole-heartedly understand. I realize a day isn’t a whole lot in the whole scheme of things, it’s just that when you only have less than 60 hours to spend with your love to begin with, every hour counts. We’ll be down to being with each other for about 48 hours now and I’m now there’s one less night that I get to spend cuddled up in his arms, but I fully expect to do my best to make every moment count. It just sucks and I’m praying he doesn’t get delayed more—something I can honestly see happening since Hurricane Hannah hasn’t even hit the US yet. I made myself not cry over the phone, and I didn’t cry when I hung up, but I can feel the tears on the brink of falling now.