I don’t care how long or short he has been on shift, away for class or at a conference, I get this sickening feeling of excitement when I know he is coming home. The butterflies flutter around and I am genuinely happy that my husband is on his way home. Even after 7 years, they still come.
Honestly, we live in a low call volume area in comparison to large cities. Most days I don’t worry. My worry level of injury or death on the job isn’t that high and my main concern is contact with toxins or other drivers not paying attention to emergency vehicles on the road or on roadside scenes. My biggest fire fear is the chemical plant. I have no idea if it has the capability to have some sort of accident like the West, Texas incident. I don’t ask because I’m still not ready to know that. I always tell myself that no matter how slow or busy of a shift he has, he is coming home. Coming home is always good.
I hope that I always have this feeling. I hope that they still come, 25 years from now. 30, 40, and 50 years from now. I want to always be happy that he is coming home. Sure, some days I am ready to send him back to the station, but I’m always happy for him to come home.
This is day 5 of a back to back 5 day stretch for us. Less than 24 hours and he will be home. I have butterflies already. Between calls and a sick kid, who three nights in a row now hasn’t slept, is still running fever and still cannot talk, I haven’t talked to him much. I’m so ready for him to come home.
I love the butterflies.
It doesn’t hurt that I’ve had an expected crazy few days of happenings that only happen on shift days. Nonetheless, I love butterflies.