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Consuelo sat watching her air force pilot husband pack his flight bag and prepare for a mission. The mission was for an undetermined number of days to an unspecified location. He could not tell her where he was going nor how long he would be away. She was a seasoned military wife. She knew not to ask. Jeff was a B-2 bomber pilot.
She sat quietly trying to beat back tears as she became lost in memories of their lives together. She had to be strong. She didn’t want to show signs of weakness and give him anything to worry about on the home front. She dreaded the lonely days and nights that lay ahead while she waited and wondered where he was, and if he was safe. She knew she would be notified if he wasn’t.
Days later, Jeff called. It is just a cat and mouse, waiting game. We are hoping against hope and praying with all our might that we do not have to take off unless it is to return home. We are waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Oh Jeff, we are praying that cool heads will prevail, and that the enemy doesn’t decide to escalate the rhetoric with his threats. The world is holding its breath.
As they were saying their goodbyes, Consuelo could hear the alert horn sounding over the phone. Jeff quickly said, Goodbye, honey. Love you Gotta go. And the line went dead.
Consuelo sat in stone silence praying for his safety and for all the other pilots and military personnel who were scrambling to their duty stations and airplanes because of impending danger. She prayed silently that it was a false alarm and not a real and present danger to America or our allies.
