American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

249/439
That wasn’t how I saw it at all. I felt children should sleep in their
own beds and rooms.
I know now that issues like that are common, but there was added
stress. She’d been raising him completely on her own for months now,
and I was intruding on her routines and ways of doing things. They
were incredibly close, which I thought was great. But I wanted to be
with them, too. I wasn’t trying to come between them, just add myself
back into the family.
As it happened, none of that was a big deal for my son; he slept
just fine. And he still has a very special relationship with his mom.
Life at home had its interesting moments, though the drama was very
different. Our neighbors and close friends were completely respectful
of my need for time to decompress. Once that was over, they put together
a little welcome-home barbecue.
They’d all been great while I was gone. The people across the
street arranged to have someone cut our grass, which was huge to us
financially and helped Taya with the heavy load she carried while I was
gone. It seemed like a little thing, but it was big to me.
Now that I was home, of course, it was my job to take care of
things like that. We had a small, itty-bitty backyard; it took all of five
minutes to cut the grass back there. But on one side of the yard were
climbing roses that climbed up these potato bush trees we had. The
bushes had little purple flowers on them year-round.
The combination looked really pretty. But the roses had thorns in
them that could pierce an armored vest. Every time I’d mow the yard
and come around the corner, I’d get snagged by them.