For the little things, shukran

January 10, 2005

I drank real milk this morning for the first time since leaving home March 18.

It was real milk, the kind that clings to the side of the pitcher after you pour it.

It was heaven.

Yeah, it’s a small thing. But to me it’s big.

Soldiers told me they relished the little things when they went home on R&R. It was the joy of grilling a steak, sitting in their recliner, driving a car.

I have found many small pleasures, one of which is milk.

And I feel the stress of life in Iraq slowly evaporating.

There isn’t real milk in the chow halls of Iraq and Kuwait. The cartons of milk are shelf stable. It’s milk that has been dried and rehydrated so it does not require refrigeration.

That’s just not right.

It tastes bad. Very bad. And for many of us, it’s indigestible.

Many soldiers and I have talked about how much we miss things like milk. I got an e-mail last month from Brig. Gen. Ron Chastain, brigade commander, telling me how much milk he was drinking while home on leave.

Like I said, it doesn’t seem like much, but it is.

I still jump at loud noises.

The street cars in Munich make a noise occasionally that reminds me of mortars exploding in the distance. No one else seems to notice that noise.

They’re lucky.

I’ve noticed a few other subtle things about myself, too.

It’s become second nature to say “shukran” for “thank you” when people around me are speaking a foreign language.

I spent the first two days here saying “shukran” to shopkeepers and bellhops.

The problem is I was speaking Arabic.

“Danke” is the word I needed.

Will I go back to Iraq saying “danke?”

I seriously doubt it.

Posted by Amy at January 10, 2005 01:51 PM