We aren’t like most military families.  They move more than we do.  And most have had at least one overseas tour, if not more.  On paper I am jealous of them. But the reality is something different.  Logistical hell.  New schools, houses that need to be sold, niches that need to be found, packing, unpacking, saying good-bye…and that doesn’t even begin to address moving to another country (cars with the steering wheel on the wrong side, pets that need to go into 6 month quarantine, and the new washing machine you just bought that the military won’t ship).  But still, how boring to let all that stop you?  Trying new places, lands, and cultures changes people.  It broadens perspective and teaches new ways to measure quality of life.  On the other hand packing and unpacking and dealing with all the red tape can and may kill you…

So on a third hand, I really want to live in France for a year.  I really want to try New England.  I wish I could have lived on the West Coast longer.  And everyone loves their experiences living in Guam (who knew?)  And on yet another hand, I may not make it if I have to move my household goods again (did I mention I am living in a rental house?)

I’m glad I’ve moved as much as I have.  Every move has been a blessing, every single one–albeit sometimes disguised.  Which brings me to now–approaching our final military chapter.  Do we stay where we are and bloom where we are planted? Or is the grass greener somewhere else?  In my head I have this vision of a small West Coast town where you ride your bike or walk to everywhere, the vistas are breathtaking, the picket fences extra white, and my charming seaside cottage is below BAH (that’s really affordable in non-military terms).  In my head I live where other people dream about–only it’s my reality.  I wish I could move all the people with me that have made every place I have lived special.  I’ve left bits of my heart across the country with these people.

Today I am enveloped in my rental house on a freezing cold day thinking of them and homes I have left and places I dream of going procrastinating on the blasted Christmas decorations that need to be packed up.  It must be all the empty boxes waiting to be packed that have triggered this thinking.  Who knows where we will be when these boxes get unpacked next?

Joy and Warmth to You,

Jen

If you liked this post then read on:

I’m Sorry You are Not a Military Family…So Put That In Your Pipe and Smoke It, Downsizing Part 3, and My Household Goods Weigh As Much As A UK Bus