When I’m back. (double digits baby!) there is a chance, a micro-chance, that I am going to act a little wonky, nay, insensitive to my surroundings. So let’s crack our knuckles and get started.
I am sorry I am in a hurry: We have two speeds here in Afghanistan: wait and hurry. My job is about 98% wait and 2% hurry. But when I need to get somewhere, I will want to get there now. I was like this before and I’m afraid it’s been quite enhanced.
I am sorry I am just sitting here doing nothing: I’m not really. I’m just thankful where I am.
I am sorry I cannot go shopping anymore: That, I’m afraid, has been cut from my heart. If I need something, I just order it online and wait. I can’t go to a mall; I can’t browse. I just can’t. I’m sorry. I’ll wait in the car.
I am sorry that I am not listening: I might drift back here. I might wonder about my soldiers and how they are doing. Just squeeze my shoulder or say, “Come back, Ryan.” I don’t mean to drift—trust me. I’m trying to leave the least of me here.
I am sorry that I will interrupt your friend about Afghanistan: If someone wants to talk to me about their opinion about drones and soldiers being here, and they come off all—haughty and dumb—this is my reply: “Name three cities in Afghanistan.” You don’t know them? Let’s move on to 3 Broke Girls. I bet you know about that.
I am sorry that I say “sir ” and “ma‘am” all the time. Habit. It will take awhile to snap that one off.
I am sorry that I won’t talk about it sometimes: I might have to put a limit on how many times a day I can say “Afghanistan.” I just don’t want it to overwhelm the dish, like bacon can. You know, that’s a bad example. Like garlic….well, ok, let’s go with garlic.
And I’m sorry I will talk a lot about it, too much, actually. And I’m sorry I was gone so long.