A couple of years ago, my husband received a forwarded e-mail from his mom that was forwarded from one of her friends. I can’t remember why she even sent it to us. It was a copy of a letter that this woman’s son-in-law had sent to his wife while he was in Iraq. It was probably not unlike most letters that are sent from military husband’s to their wives back at home, but something in this particular letter got to my husband. The man was telling his wife how much he missed her and told her that the barracks that they had been staying in had been destroyed in a fire and he lost all of his personal belongings and mementos in the fire. He didn’t even have any pictures of the kids left to look at. You could tell that he was feeling pretty down and then he started listing some things that he missed and couldn’t wait to see when he got home. He mentioned things like rain, because it’s so hot and dry there, and the smell that little boys have when they come in from playing outside. It was just really sweet.

From that forwarded e-mail, my husband got the idea to write a song about someone who is away from home for some time for whatever reason and makes a list of the things he wants to see when he gets home. And that’s the story behind the Coming Home Song.

**Update** I can’t believe this, but the songwriter and I were cleaning out our bedroom this morning and he found the original e-mail that contained the letter from the soldier to his wife. It’s from 2003 when he was in Iraq for Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Here it is, with names changed because I don’t know who they are so I can’t ask permission to post it!

Hello Gorgeous,

It’s been a weird week. I don’t really remember the last time I talked to you, but last Monday, around 0300 in the morning, our building caught fire. I crammed my clothes into a trash bag, left my ruck, my cot, and my box of extra supplies, and grabbed my flight bag, which holds all of my important stuff (records, pictures and letters) and got out. Sitting in the parking lot watching the smoke billow out of the doors I realized, to my horror, that I had left my two filled cameras and more importantly Joshua’s first letter to me, Rachel’s letter to me, Mama’s card to me, which I was using as a bookmark in Moby Dick, and the latest bunch of pictures you sent. The greatest of these was my son’s first letter to me. Honey, it so depressed me. We had to relocate shop and find a new place to live. We found a place to live at an abandoned house at the end of the airfield where most of the company has been living while here. We spent Tues. and part of Wed. scrubbing the soot and smoke out of our clothes.

That night I started to feel sick. I don’t know if I caught dysentery, a twenty-four hour bug, or some strange bacteria grown in the Middle East, but it put me down. I became dehydrated and slept 14 hours! Many have become sick here. I mean what do you expect when you cram 10,000 soldiers on an airport. The latrines are pitiful and you could throw a rock from the door of the latrine and hit the cooks in the field kitchen. I’m finally able to keep food down and have put about two gallons of water in me today. Got a box from Mom and Dad as well, so the day ended pretty well. Earlier we were able to go back into the building and see if anything was salvageable. It was all ash, except for my field jacket. I wish Jacob’s letter had survived by some miracle, but all I found was ash.

I miss you, darling. I’m tired of this campout and want to come home. I dream about you all the time. I was lying awake this afternoon, because you can’t really sleep in the midday here, and had a vision of hugging the boys and Ginny. I kissed Joshua’s head and could smell the sweaty boy smell as he hugged me. Everyday, I put up the pictures Ginny in her Easter dress, Joshua in his Spiderman jammies and Jaden in his Superman, and my favorite picture of you and the boys as I start my shift and carefully take them down when it’s time to go home. I’m counting down the days now till I’m back in your arms. I love you and miss you and can’t wait to kiss your wonderful lips. You are the precious jewel of my heart.

With all my love,

Sam

P.S. The comments about the rain and Diana Krall, in Thursday’s email, were just plain cruel. Oh, and could you pass along the interesting part of this to Mom and Dad, etc. Thanks, beautiful.

What? Monday already? I can’t believe it. The songwriter’s family is surviving summer so far. Of course, it’s only been about 4 days. I have a plan to take the kids to every VBS in town and we’re thinking about taking some sort of family vacation so that ought to make it go a little faster. And did I mention it’s hot? It’s starting to feel like it usually does about this time of year, but I never really get used to it.

While I was getting my hair cut the other day, this couple came into the salon and everyone dropped what they were doing and ran over to see them. Apparently, it was the daughter and son-in-law of one of the stylists and they had come by to see her. She was telling everyone that her son-in-law had just returned home from Iraq the day before. Everyone was so happy to see them. The man was holding his son who looked to be about 9 or 10 months old and I heard him say he had been gone about 5 months so I imagine he was excited to see his growing boy. And, of course, the whole scene reminded me of one of my husband’s songs. It’s called Not A Dream, but I’ve always referred to it as the Coming Home Song and it has a really neat story behind it…which I will tell later this week after you’ve had a chance to listen to it a couple of times.

Not A Dream