Have you ever heard two people talking about one duty station in entirely different ways? One person says it was her least favorite assignment, while the other says it was her absolute favorite. Maybe you, yourself, have talked highly about a duty station with another spouse who thought poorly of it, or the other way around. You enjoyed the climate, and she did not, or you thought there was a lot to do there, and she was bored. In a lot of instances, I really believe it comes down to the community a person finds that makes or breaks the experience. It’s the people who we meet and spend our time with who make the most memorable impressions on the places we go.
Sometimes as military spouses, it can feel like we live many different lives as we pack up and move to new places, starting over again, and when I reflect on what it is that we leave behind each time, I realize it’s the faces, not the places…
When I think back on our time at Fort Hood, I don’t remember the blue lakes, bluebonnets, barbecue and Austin adventures the same way I do the girl who lived three houses down — who stood beside me with endless support while my first child was born, who celebrated more “firsts” with me that first year than my own husband. She was the girl who became my best friend, who dropped off surprise donuts on my birthday, and would drop everything and go to the outlet mall with me on a random Tuesday morning. I don’t remember the big thunderstorms or Texas flags or the fire ants like I do the girl who smiled at me across the Sunday school room, inviting us to lunch, or the older lady who took me under her wing and filled me with so much wisdom about marriage and raising babies, and quickly became my “Texas mom.”
When I think back to our time at Fort Bragg, I don’t remember the charming little town of Southern Pines or our favorite crepe shop and playground, or the little farms and fruit stands the same way I do the girl who invited us over for lunch often and fed my family and took care of my children as if they were her own. I can’t feel the humid summer breeze the same way I can remember the feeling I got from the kindness in her eyes and the magic she brought from the simplest things. I can’t remember the sound of the buzzing mosquitoes or the foaming ocean waves the way I can hear her whispers of motherhood wisdom and her giddy laugh as she showed me constantly how to love life and find joy in the little things.
When I think back on our time at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, I don’t see picturesque views in my mind of Mount Rainier or the blue waters of Crescent Lake. What I do see is the set of sympathetic blue eyes of an older woman as I confided in her during the hardest time I’ve ever experienced in my marriage. I don’t remember our hikes or adventures the way I do her invitations for a walk or coffee. When I look back on our time there, I don’t hear the orca’s snorting or bumblebees buzzing by on summer afternoons. I hear her voice checking in on me, speaking the truth into my soul. I don’t remember the color of the elementary school building or the pretty flowers along the path to walk there, but I do remember my son’s kindergarten teacher and her vibrant energy and how much love she gave my child. I don’t remember the lakes or the splash pads or low tide exploration days the same way I do the friends’ faces who joined me in all of those places.
As we look back on the places we have been, it is often the faces we remember most. For it is the people who influence and shape our lives and friendships and who truly make a place feel like home.
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