Home Is Where The Military Sends You
By Sonya Murdock
Less than 10 years ago, my husband Wade and I sat in a friend's living room opening brightly wrapped packages and trying not to break too many ribbons. The boxes held lace-trimmed bed sheets, Cuisinarts and steak knives, fine china and lead crystal goblets.
Of all those gifts, one was particularly special. Not because of its dollar value - it wasn't expensive at all. It wasn't even on our bridal registry. The gift was special because it was from a former Navy wife who knew so well the journey on which I was about to embark.
Her gift was a five-by-seven watercolor in a simple brass frame. The childlike painting was of a teddy bear wearing a camouflage helmet and driving a toy Army tank. A little red wagon in tow held all the bear's earthly possessions, including a tiny American flag trailing behind. And the caption inscribed above it all read, "Home is where the Army sends you." I still have that picture, a treasured wedding gift from a friend who knew then what I have since come to understand - like when it was time for Wade and I to leave the first house we'd shared.
The house that had become our home with each passing day, as rooms filled with five years' worth of tender memories. That house was our labor of love. We sodded and nursed the yard until the centipedes finally crept across the sandy soil. I dug up little patches of earth to plant my bulbs each fall - tulips that came up but never bloomed and daffodils that bloomed every spring.
Then there was the window where I stood late one stormy night watching in amazement as our Bradford pear tree bent almost horizontal, but did not break, against hurricane force winds. There was the fireplace we never used, afraid ashes would soil our white carpet. How I wish that we'd thrown all caution to the wind and burned at least one cozy fire on an autumn night! And there was the back patio where, on warm summer days, Wade and I entertained the new friends we'd made together - so many friends who have long since moved on to other military towns.
Of course, I always knew we would move on someday too. After all, I married a soldier. That sunny June day in the Main Post Chapel, I understood what it meant to say "I do" to all those conditions the chaplain listed. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. Until death... those were the easy ones. The hardest part, he left out - the part about leaving your friends and family and home behind, just when you've set down roots in a town that you once disliked yet eventually grew to love.
Just when you've begun to cherish that military town, despite its tattoo parlors, pawnshops and even the Black Hawk helicopters buzzing the rooftops nightly. Just when you've realized you no longer turn up your nose, but instead smile, when you tell someone that this town is your home.
Becoming attached to a new military town doesn't have to be difficult, especially if you explore your surroundings as soon as you get settled into your new digs. To conquer my fears of living in a new place, I always make a point of driving around until I get lost and then finding my way back home.
I have said goodbye to many friends since being a military spouse. But I always try to keep up with where my friends are stationed, even if it's just to drop a Christmas card in the mail once a year. Thanks to the Internet, I can stay in touch with all my old friends who now live around the globe.
The bright side of it all is just that - we have friends scattered all over the planet! Wherever we go in the future, we won't be far from at least a friend or two. Wade's transfers will reunite us with old friends while leading us to new friendships along the way.
As I moved from that first home of ours, I sifted through my belongings, categorizing what to pack, what to discard, and I saw it all so much more clearly. As I stood on the verge of yet another adventure in this gypsy life I'd chosen, I understood. So I packed away the fine china and the lead crystal goblets, the Cuisinart, the steak knives and the bed sheets with lace trim, and I was certain of just one thing. The most precious possessions that I'll take with me on every move I make aren't packed up in boxes with Styrofoam peanuts. They can't be broken by the movers or lost somewhere between state lines. They are the memories.
And the memories yet to be made in each and every military town that awaits us! With every move, I'll unpack that picture of the tiny little bear and he'll remind me that home is wherever I am, as long as I am with my soldier.
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Sonya Murdock has been an Army wife for seven years. A former columnist for the Fayetteville Observer-Times, Sonya has written on all things military from an Army wife's point of view.
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Military Family Deployment: How To Prepare, Cope And Recoup
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What To Do When Deployment Strikes - Financial Affairs, Updating Your Will, Power of Attorney
Military Family Relocation: Stay Positive And Proactive In Your New Community
Adapting To A New Community - Help from Military Relocation Offices
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