A Letter To My Tribe

“Find your tribe.”

It’s one of the first things I heard when becoming a military spouse.

But what does that mean?

In anthropology, a tribe is defined as a human social group. But more in depth, a tribe is almost a subculture of a group of people.

For the longest time, I thought “finding your tribe” meant finding dear friends who would accept me as I am. But as I prepare to leave this place I’ve called home for the last three years, I realize it’s much more than that.

You see, I’ve made close friends ever since I married my soldier and became a military spouse 10 years ago. I felt the loneliness and sadness that comes with being on my own, my soldier-spouse out in the field, away for training, or deployed. I knew it was important to find friends, but I now realize that it isn’t the number of friendships that matter as much as the caliber of those friendships.

As an introvert, it’s sometimes hard to cultivate those relationships. It’s intimidating to be in a large, rowdy group and open up enough to share details about my life. But you, the members of my tribe, were patient, offering to meet for coffee or to pop over to my house for a drink and a chat. You eased me out into your world and made me feel at home.

As our friendships progressed, you’ve spent holidays, birthdays, and even unplanned Friday nights with my family and me. You’ve lavished my children with gifts on their special days. You’ve brought sweet treats and savory goodness to celebrate a holiday: cookies at Christmas, rice crispies at Halloween, egg hunts on Easter.

You’ve celebrated the announcement of new babies with shouts of joy and discussions of nursery themes, and you’ve grieved the loss of beloved babies with tears of sadness and vows of support. You’ve dropped everything to be there after the death of a parent, responding with a hug and a “What can I do?”

You’ve planned trips with me, helping me cross off major bucket list items, taking in the miraculous sights in just as awed of a manner as me, and selecting a few trinkets to take back home as a lasting memory of our shared experience.

You’ve given me insight into marriage, relationships, extended family dualities, raising children—the good and the bad.

You’ve loved my children as your own, providing trusted child care when I’ve needed it. My kids love you enough to let you put them to bed and snuggle them close. They love you so much, in fact, that they’ll chase you halfway down the street or run naked out the front door just to receive a hug or hello from you. I’ve never ignored your child’s hugs, hand holds, or quiet hellos. Your children will always hold a special place in my heart.

You’ve offered a safe place to share frustration: about our relationships, about our children, about how this life is letting us down at times. You’ve also offered endless conversation and insight about life, politics, favorite books, and faith.

You’ve passed off meals during move-ins, move-outs, cookouts, or when life is getting just a bit more hectic than we’re used to.

You’ve applauded career shifts and development, rooting for me and each other when changes were a-comin’.

But more than anything, you’ve given me companionship, an evening that begins with my husband and me sitting outside around a fire, and eventually, all of our current tribe members filtering outside, sharing food and drinks and stories. A friendship comfortable enough where we can sit in our pajamas, makeup free, hair in messy ponytails, sipping on glasses of wine, and stuffing our faces with s’mores and chocolate bars. A friendship comfortable enough that we can locate each other’s spare keys or walk over unannounced. Where a message saying “I need some help” is met with four people at the ready. A friendship close enough where a text at 9:30 p.m. saying, “Wanna have a drink?” is immediately answered with “Yes! Your place or mine?”

You are the ones who let me be me, who slash awkward moments with humor, who have let me come more into myself. You have provided the friendships I always knew existed, but simply hadn’t found, that diamond in the rough we all wish to hold in our hands.

You’ve been close enough to my heart the last few years that, for the first time, I find it hard to leave a duty station, where the anticipated adventure at the new place isn’t enough of a distraction from the current location.

As I write this a few days before a traveling adventure with one of you and a few weeks before I leave all of you, I can’t help but think of how much of my heart each of you will keep. In this life, it is said that there aren’t any goodbyes, but rather see-you-laters, that the military is small, and you never know when you’ll cross paths again.

I hope that’s the case for us.

Thank you for becoming my tribe, my family, in a place where it’s easy to feel like outsiders.