I was sitting on the porch again today, just like every Tuesday afternoon, watching the world go by with my wife of forty years beside me. We barely spoke, just the easy quiet of people who’ve shared a roof for decades, but it hit me then – a sharp, cold jab – that I can’t remember the last time I truly *looked* at her and saw the woman I fell for, not just a familiar face. It makes me wonder if all those years of disciplined duty, of keeping everything locked down after what I saw overseas, ended up locking me away from her too... and if what we have now is just habit, a comfortable truce, rather than love. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, after all this time.