I’ve been absent for a few weeks, I know. But only absent from the virtual world–because I have been focusing on living my life fully present and here. I have done more in the past three weeks since my husband left than I have in the entire nine months we have lived in North Carolina, and the main reason is because since my husband isn’t commuting to work every day, I have a car to get around.

Secondarily, my husband works many long hours and wants to spend time at home when we can, and while I completely understand, sometimes that means we don’t get out of the house very much.

Yes, there has been a lot of intentionality in keeping us as busy as we have been. Playdates every day, time at the park, story time at the library, church events, playing outside, quiet mornings snuggling in bed, going out to explore new towns and festivals, visiting far away friends–and zero time at my computer.

Honestly, it’s been liberating, not being tied to my technology, and I’m loving the freedom to drive across the state on a whim to do things like see the Wings Over Wayne air show. That’s what little man and I did yesterday, and it couldn’t have been more worth the drive.

My little brother is majoring in aviation–studying at an aeronautical university to become an Air Force pilot–and I gave him a call while we were at the show because he would have been in plane heaven. I would love to pretend I remember the names of the jets and planes on display, but I don’t. All I remember is that some were huge, some were shiny, some were very loud, and all were extremely impressive. The pilots stood by their planes, answering questions and sharing interesting facts, and taking my son around to tour the military planes is one day going to be a very special memory for him, even if all he gets from it is the pictures.

Boy, what a trooper my little man was.

There was no cloud covering, no shade, no wind and lots of glare, lots of noise, lots of people, and lots of waiting around. I don’t want to say he was calm because that would be an extreme misrepresentation of my son–he has had very few calm moments in his whole life–but he was content. I gave him earplugs for the fly-bys and he was uninterested, he didn’t want his sunglasses or snacks; he simply sat in his stroller with his sippy cup and observed the world go by as I lathered him in sunscreen. He flirted with the little girls who cooed about how cute he was and he grinned at the white haired veterans with pins on their hats and old, fraying jeans.

He even enjoyed the Rapid Strike Air Force flight simulator. The sign stated there was no age requirement and from afar it appeared tame enough so I decided it would be fun to take him on a little ride and as the long line inched forward and we moved closer to the jostling simulator, I started questioning the wisdom in taking a one year old on such an adventure. The small capsule was being thrown back and forth, I could hear surprised screams coming from inside, and the hydraulics powering the ride were working so hard we could hear them hissing loudly even from far away.

But we had been waiting in line for a long time so I took him anyway and goodness, I have never been in a simulator quite as intense. I had to hold on to the railing in front of me to avoid being thrown out of my seat and of course the little guy thought it was a greatest thing since melted cheese on carbs and loved it. I should have known.

The main event of the show was the U.S. Navy Blue Angels, and since watching them, I have been told that Marines are also part of the Blue Angels (something about Marines being part of the department of the Navy, pshh)– probably why there were so great.

I believe that many years ago, while living in D.C., my family had the chance to see the Blue Angels, but since becoming part of the military family it has become that much more special. My husband loves true war stories and in one of his favorite books, Level Zero Heroes, the writer talks about calling in fly-bys as a show of force. I always had a hard time understanding how a fighter jet flying overhead could be that intimidating and now I completely get it.

At one point in the show, the diamond formation flew by and the announcer drew our attention to the jets, at that point to our right, and how they switched formation. All of a sudden, in an instant, a huge roar enveloped the field and the stroller shook as a single plane flew by from the left at over 400mph, coming out of what seemed like literally nowhere. It was less than two seconds from the time we heard the jet to it disappearing again.

If I was an insurgent crouching in rubble trying to get eyes on a soldier and someone called in a fly-by I would definitely reconsider my own power.

Watching the six jets fly overhead, hearing the crowd cheer and applaud, reminded me how awesome our military is.

Sometimes I forget.

Especially during the nights where I’m sleeping diagonal on the bed, trying to make it feel less empty. Especially when I’m struggling to get on a shuttle with a stroller and a baby and two bags and only two hands. Especially when I need someone to give me a big hug and remind me I’m not failing as a mom just because I had a hard afternoon but there’s nobody at home except for me and my screaming kid. Especially when I see couples laughing together and holding hands in church and I’m alone again.

The military doesn’t feel quite so awesome anymore during those times.

When my husband comes home at 11 at night and leaves again 3 hours later and he has to be on his phone answering questions half the evening and take calls during dates and miss holidays, I want to loath the military and the way it is so effective at tearing at our family.

“But he signed up for this,” didn’t he? Yes, he did. And I knew what I was getting into when I married him too, but that doesn’t make it any less of a sacrifice.

My son is currently upstairs crying for his dada–“signing up for this” doesn’t take away the sacrifice military families make, and family aside, my husband makes huge sacrifices when he lives in the field for five weeks and gets minimal sleep and has to wake up at 4:30am to PT on a fractured ankle.

All of that is simply to say that I needed the reminder that my husband is part of something incredible.

He’s not out doing airshows in front of 100,000 people, but he is out in the wilderness with minimal food, sleep, and hygiene, leading a team of Marines who have much to learn as best he can because his leadership will dictate how they perform when they’re deployed and the way he leads his team could save a life–for no applause. No crowd cheering. No acknowledgement at all.

And that’s what our military does, with few exceptions. They perform to keep their brothers alive and their county safe while people back home call them baby killers and their kids beg them not to leave again. They don’t call it a sacrifice for no reason.

An air show is not a mini version of the military–of course it isn’t. It’s a tiny, tiny snapshot of what the American military can do.

But it shows the power. It shows the dedication our service members have. It shows how hard they work to get good at what they do. In that way, it is a reflection of the US military–passion, dedication, power, force.

I was so proud to be able to tell everyone my husband is a Marine. If he was there, he would have cringed and probably asked me to stop because I was embarrassing him, which I tend to do when I’m proud of him. But I was also proud to see the ginormous American flag hanging from a crane by the main stage and to see so many service members in uniform and to see the staggering size of some of the planes.

After the show ended, as little man and I headed back out through one of the massive hangars, we could hear squeals of glee coming from some obviously excited children. Next to us, two airmen had created fountains out of fire hoses for the kids to play in. Maybe that was their job for the day–I don’t know–but I do know that everyone else was packing up and going home and they were still standing in the heat, grinning as they sprayed the hoses at squealing children.

That’s what our service members do. They stay late to complete a mission, finish a translation, count gear, or simply keep kids cool on a hot day. They’re pretty fantastic and I couldn’t think of a more noble profession my husband could have chosen.

I am so proud of my husband and my country and our military. It took a long, hot, loud trip to the air show for the reminder I needed, but I’m going to bed a little less lonely because my heart is a little more full. Plus my son is so wiped out he’ll probably sleep extra all week.

Here’s to hoping, right?