Yellow ribbons adorned trees outside Suzanna's Camp Pendleton housing unit, where nearly a dozen wives gathered last week.

We came to plan family events and hear news passed directly from Battalion Headquarters to Cindy, our appointed Key Volunteer Coordinator. In the living room, we found spots on the couches or sat Indian-style on the carpet, while our little ones discovered bins of toys in the corner.

In Baghdad, heavy fighting had ceased, and the mission of our Marines had morphed into one of patrolling and peacekeeping. Pockets of resistance and the threat of terrorists remained, but U.S. forces controlled the city streets.

The tension in my shoulders and the knot in my stomach had dissipated, replaced by a sense of euphoria that the war might soon be over.

Other wives felt the same sense of relief. Rumors floated back and forth across the room.

"I heard on the news that our guys are going back to Kuwait in two weeks!"

"Really? I read that they might be home in June!"

No return date was ever assigned to this deployment; no red marker circles a day on the calendar. Summer vacation plans are on hold, along with future trips anywhere.

We speculated on when our Marines might return and proposed various banner-making and welcome-home activities.

The realities of the war, however, could not be ignored, nor the fact that in two short months, some lives have been changed forever.

Somberly, we discussed the battalion's most recent casualties, incurred while overtaking a presidential palace. Our battalion suffered one loss and 36 wounded.

One by one, Cindy read names and injuries from a roster.

The more seriously injured Marines are headed home now. From hospital bed phones, they have begun to share stories from their long journey to Baghdad.

These men and others have phoned or written home, describing what they've seen. Spouses are sharing tidbits with each other, taken aback at what their husbands have been through.

The war these Marines experienced was different from the one I witnessed on television.

I didn't smell the stench of death, feel the ground shake with artillery fire, or mourn the death of a friend. I didn't see bullets impact my vehicle, civilians wail, or mines explode with the footstep of a squadmate.

The war in Iraq is winding down. Americans can turn off the television, or at least change the channel, and return to normal life.

But I fear that it won't be so easy for our troops. I wonder how easily they'll resume the lives they led just two months ago. How long will the images of war haunt them?

Should my own husband need some time or help processing what he has seen, I'll be right beside him each step of the way.

Last week I wrote that this war will be over for me when my husband returns home. Now I think it's likely to take a little longer than that.