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Weepy. Day 346.

Maybe it’s the weather, the dogs and their recent quarrelling, or the looming positive changes up ahead, but the past few days have been dark and all around meh.

Things like the smell of the air fryer toasting pizza rolls, the rain slowing down my drive, and a trip to the ID center on New River to update Max’s military ID seem extra irritating. We did get to go to the commissary though, but I met it with an annoying amount of thick and heavy nostalgia. They haven’t changed it or the layout in over six years.

I remember going to the commissary, mostly on Mainside Camp Lejeune with Roger, toddler on his camouflaged hip and another baby in the cart squealing and grabbing at anything in his reach. Everything was so cheap there and Marines floated from aisle to aisle with their little families or alone, toting children or walking next to a stern spouse with a Coach purse, waiting in line to spend 36 cents a box for clearanced Fruit Loops or Apple Jacks.

I would sometimes have to pick him up from work on base when we had only one car, and many times we would stop by there, do our shopping, then drive back to Tarawa Terrace, or TTII as we used to call it, home, just in time for a quick dinner, tubbies, and feetie pajamas. That was when life was a little easier.

Maybe it’s the is a time, the end of summer. Maybe the August lighting and cooler mornings are triggering my memories, making me worry about school starting and sweet pink Coppertone and cheap green freeze pops leaving for another year.

Whatever it is, I’m happy to have this avenue to vent, to share with others who may be feeling the same way, who may need to hear they’re not the only ones. This, too, shall pass, one way or another.

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