Epic worrying coming to a Dani near you

My friend Jason is going back to Iraq in August.

The last time he was there I scoured the Associated Press photos every day, hoping he’d be that soldier taking a break sitting on the tank or whatever the guy in the photo was doing, hoping he wasn’t the guy under fire. Whenever there was a story on the Ohio wire about a soldier being injured, or worse, I felt sick to my stomach and held my breath until I saw the name.

I worried worried worried until he came home. I caught the tail end of a clip on the news at dinner one night, and I thought I saw him. I rushed back to work to ask a coworker to find the clip so I could use his earphones to listen, and … I may have sat in the newsroom and cried a little when I saw him.

I told Jason  most of this when we had lunch Wednesday and he was amused. Probably thought I was exaggerating. I can assure you, I am not. I also made him take a picture with me at lunch:

Last time, I didn’t write nearly as often as I should have, and I still feel horribly guilty about it. This time though, I will write, and I will send packages when I can afford it, and this photo will sit on my desk to remind me to be a better friend.

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