Kristi’s husband kneels indoors and gently holds a seated black-and-tan dog’s face.

The Day After Homecoming


My go-to response when someone asks me how I’m enjoying my husband’s new retirement lifestyle: “He’s around a lot.” I say this in jest, of course. I love him and love having him around, but it is an adjustment, a disruption of routine, a crash course in sharing space, time and responsibilities. It’s a new chapter, but strangely nostalgic somehow. And, because all the clearest epiphanies happen in the middle of the night, I finally figured out when I’d felt this way before while trying to will myself back to sleep around 2 a.m. This is what those days after deployment homecomings were preparing me for.

Kristi’s husband holds his young child in a flight suit as a smiling Kristi stands beside them.

Instagram vs. Reality

Deployments, for the lucky ones, are punctuated with a homecoming. It’s the moment we look forward to for months. The outfit, the posters, the photographer — all the things we can control in an otherwise out-of-control situation — become a pet project.

Then we spot our person, and all the months of thriving (or just surviving, depending on the day) become the past. We exhale months of frustrations, annoyances, inconveniences (looking at you, Murphy’s Law) and hyper-independence. Then we grab their hand and a piece of olive-green baggage and head home to live happily ever after.

Later that night, conscious of how much noise we’re making for the first time in months, we tiptoe to the bathroom. Except this time, that olive-green bag — difficult to see in the dark — is obstructing our usual nightly path. We trip, knock our knee into the doorframe, and though we manage to stay upright, the collision and the whisper screaming has everyone wide awake and irritated.

Desperate for a second cup of coffee the next morning, we’re disappointed to find the carafe empty and our eyes pan to our partner sipping their coffee.

We talk ourselves out of being annoyed because we can make more coffee. Right now, we should be nothing but grateful to have them home. And we are. We truly are.

But two things can be true at once. We are allowed to be thankful and irritated. Just as we had to learn how to exist in a new normal during the deployment, we now have to relearn how to share space (and coffee) with our returning service member.

A smiling Kristi and her young child sit on a blanket beside an aircraft; the child’s shirt reads, “Daddy’s Copilot.”

Day Two

The homecoming photos are shared on social media. We see pure joy on everyone’s faces. We can almost hear the band and the hum of the plane or bus delivering heroes back to their loved ones. The hard part, though, is rarely Insta-worthy. This part happens at home once the excitement passes and the mounds of deployment laundry pile up. The hard part is built of subtle changes to our environment and routine: “the gear bomb” (as my husband calls it, when uniforms and gear seem to be everywhere); sharing the TV, the bathroom, space in the driveway and the contents of the fridge; adjusting to sleep habits — snoring, late-night trips to the bathroom, or the dog who refuses to return to his bed after six months of that king-sized, pillow-top life. It’s reacclimating to each other’s sounds and habits and learning all the new ones we developed while we were apart.

In my very humble opinion, the transition from deployment to home is every bit as hard as home to deployment, only now the world expects us to have nothing to complain about. Let me just go on record and say that if the days after your partner’s homecoming don’t feel like a Lifetime movie, you’re not alone in that. These are major life transitions, and they’re tough. But so are we.

Though homecoming’s challenges are often overshadowed by banners of red, white and blue and heartwarming social media posts announcing a picture-perfect reunion, the days that follow are important, too, and probably deserve more airtime. Take it slow. Give everyone (including yourself) a little space and grace. Slowly, likely so slowly that you won’t even notice, you’ll find your rhythm together again. It may never be “back to normal” because you’ve both grown, but the new normal is something you’ll create together. Well, you and the dog, whose new normal is firmly cuddled up in your bed.

Kristi’s child stands beside packed bags, including a camouflage backpack.

Blog Brigade unites military spouses by creating a community built on shared experiences and mutual support. Navigating the complexities of military life can be challenging, but you don’t have to do it alone. Military OneSource offers valuable resources focused on well-being, readiness, and connection. Explore a range of deployment resources and tools tailored to your needs.

Kristi
Written By Kristi Stolzenberg
Marine Spouse

Kristi started writing for Blog Brigade as a new Milspouse in 2008, and all of a sudden, she’s a seasoned (but not overly salty) Marine spouse.

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