February 10th, 1992
Apartment by the sea, Massachusetts
I’m here alone tonight and when I say alone, I mean alone, as in the only person I know in this part of the world, is gone. William’s home time was cut short due to the crisis in Haiti escalating and he was given just three hours’ notice to report to the boat.
Watching William don his uniform, I couldn’t help but think of his role in the horrific tv images of people being pulled from the water. He hardly ever mentions his work and I haven’t figured out if that’s because he’s used to it or because he’s able to detach from it. When he walked out the door, I felt so sad and tried to hold it together but it didn’t take long for the tears to show up.
The day dragged on and on and I really wanted to leave but according to the duty manager at the airport, tonight’s flights are heavily overbooked. Staff travel is great when the flight is wide open but when it’s busy it can be a bit of a nightmare getting on. There’s no public transportation here, nor do I have a vehicle so it’s not as if I can freely go back and forth.
The wind is howling, it’s pouring and I’m thinking of William and how long it’ll be before he get a chance to get out of uniform and get some rest.