The Chance Chatter of Chameleons

Days are the measurement of time defined by the earth rotating on its axis. Twenty-seven times the earth rotated on its axis, the equivalent of six hundred and forty-eight hours; that is the measurement of time it took me to change the water filter in the fridge after the warning on my refrigerator alerted me it was time for a new water filter.

It was three days after deployment began that the water filter started counting down the days until it needed to be replaced. Ten days was the countdown; I watched the days count down each morning as I filled water bottles for school. Each day, I chided myself for not having a replacement filter handy. Day nine, day eight, day seven, day six, day five, day four, then suddenly on day three I finally went to buy that filter. For the remainder of the countdown and for twenty-seven more days it sat on the counter next to the fridge as a reminder that I needed to change the filter. A reminder that the kids water bottles were filled with ice and water that hadn’t been filtered. A reminder that I was the only one responsible for everything.

The concept of being the only responsible adult in the house is not new to me. Deployments make you numb to that, at least they do me, but for some reason that water filter kicked my ass. It nagged at me, it buzzed in the back of my mind like a fly I just could not swat away. Change the filter and the fly disappears. I just couldn’t.  I kept telling myself I needed to get that done, change that filter. I was doing everything but changing that filter. I wasn’t struggling at work; I was nailing those issues. I was managing the house, the spring yard work, the dog, the kids, and my schoolwork hands down, no issue. That DAMN water filter though that filter was the mountain I had to climb.

I started climbing the hill on day three of the countdown until replacement, that was the day I ventured out to buy the water filter, I replaced the filter on day twenty-seven. Thirty days from the date I bought the filter was what it took me to take out the old and put in the new. Why is this water filter so damn hard?

Why is it that every deployment every light bulb in the house in light fixtures you can’t reach burn out? Why do tires go flat, kids act like emotional terrorists, dogs need the vet, and why every deployment does the water filter need to be changed? Why in all that is holy can’t this happen when your spouse is home? Oh, but it does. It most certainly does. Its just not all on you to take care of it, and most likely, you don’t even notice most of it because it just gets done.

I changed the water filter and I feel much lighter now, there are no more days being counted on my refrigerator. The water is filtered, the kids are going to school with water bottles of filtered water. I have 140 plus days (after this water filter count has finally ended) left of changing light bulbs, wiping noses, weeding gardens, walking dogs, cooking meals, doing laundry, and chauffeuring kids. 140 plus days to write, to read, to run, to work. That’s why I couldn’t change the filter, it was a daunting reminder that it was just beginning. The span of time in front of me to bear the responsibility of everything was taunting me from the front of my refrigerator.

Feelings of being overwhelmed, angry about tasks being left undone, blah, blah, blah are supposed to be common during deployment. I don’t feel any of those things. They talk about the stages of deployment, what to expect, how you will feel. No one tells you that twenty-seven days and a water filter will be the demon that taunts you. No one can really prepare you for how you will feel when you pause for that moment to realize that your world and life seem to stand still until that deployment ends. That once they get home you will breathe, until the next time you start measuring in days, the countdown to the next deployment and water filter change.

Change the filter you will feel better.