Rut chair

Naturally, I miss my wife, my son, and being home near family and friends. But there are many trivial things that I miss.

I miss silverware. We inmates have plasticware in the DFAC. So, if the meat is a little tough, good luck with that flimsy knife. Better to just pick it up with your fingers and gnaw on it because the slightest bit of pressure on the plastic knife will cause it to shatter in your hands.

I miss zippers. More to the point, I miss britches that zip. I would love to spend a day in my Levi 560 blue jeans. No blousing the cuffs, no annoying buttons. Just comfort.

I miss green. No, not Army green (of which there is also a dearth here), but bright, springtime, fresh, cool green. The lush color of grass, and of new leaves on trees.

I miss my truck. We have a few vehicles we can check out an drive as required, but I don't have my own, dedicated vehicle. Not that I need it, really. I just bought a bike, and that's been liberating. But my truck is my truck.

Of the seemingly inconsequential things, the one I really think of the most is my rut chair. For those who may not be familiar with the term "rut chair", it's borne of the fact that I get in a rut sitting in it so much. There's a good reason, though: it's damn comfortable! Way better than the straight chair I have in my CHU. As I sat in that cold, hard, steel, Baptist-church-reception-hall folding chair tonight, I had a vivid recollection of the anticipation that always occurred when my ass was about to land in the soft, foam-filled seat of my rut chair.

I guess the big take-away in all this is not to take anything (or, for that matter, anyone) for granted. I wonder if there's anything I'll miss from here. Gimme a sec...let me think. Uh, no.

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BTW, I've been listening to Satriani to night as I'm writing. He's arguably the best guitarist on the planet. If you don't have Surfing with the Alien and/or Flying in a Blue Dream in your music collection, you're leading a deprived life.