How I Discovered I Was “Home”-less

For the entire month of February, my family and I took off to my parents’ home for 25 days. Now, mind you, my family consists of an 8-month-old infant and two 50-pound dogs, and my parents’ house is definitely only built for three grown adults and zero animals. It’s been a challenge, but we’re making it work.

We came out here not only to get some quality grandparent time in, but also for my husband to attend a TDY course at the installation nearby. This particular town and installation happens to be the exact location I had the privilege of growing up at for 13 years.

“But I thought you were an Army Brat, Amber.” Short answer—I am. Our situation is mostly unheard of, I know, but entirely possible.

So, nowadays, if anyone asks me where I’m from I say, “Southern Kentucky, about an hour north of Nashville, Tennessee.” I never bother with giving the actual installation name since I always end up describing the geographical location anyway, but I never second guess it.

By all means of the definition, this. Is. Home.

All of that said, you’d expect me to be completely at ease due to all the familiarity and to get a break from the monotony of our current duty station, right? Sadly, you’d be mistaken.

Yes, everything is familiar. Yes, I’m elated my parents get time with the baby. Yes, it’s been a cool experience taking my son to places I went when I was a kid.

But, something’s been off.

I’ve been waiting for that sense of relief I would get when I came home for a weekend during a rough week at college, a reunion with old high school friends, or when we’d pass through during a major military transition. It’s been more than two weeks and… nothing.

Until yesterday. Well, and today, too.

Last night, my husband and I fought the dreaded ETA computer system trying to schedule things for our upcoming PCS (which is approximately five weeks after we get back from this trip—pray for my soul!). Once we figured it out, I had this overwhelming sense of excitement to start our next adventure together. I even had excited thoughts of the possibility of future assignments being on the entire opposite side of the country.

Wait, what? You want to move even further away from everything you’ve ever known? Yep. It seems that way.

Then today, after a quick trip to the installation commissary, I decided to take the extra-long scenic route to get off the installation and drive through all the streets and neighborhoods I loved running around in growing up.

I navigated the maze of houses for an extra 15 minutes through pure muscle memory. It was that familiar. I was instantly hit with the realization of my lack of enthusiasm for being “home” the moment I realized that the current state of my childhood home wasn’t anywhere close to resembling my precious memories. I literally almost drove past it!

While I had noticed obvious, much-needed changes to the installation and surrounding areas, in that moment I realized, “This isn’t home anymore.” Through the renovations, additions, and Mother Nature, my home was, more or less, gone. It wasn’t the same, and it wasn’t ever going to be the same.

I was constantly looking around through memories from 1998, and it bothered me that I was constantly going around with that feeling of, “Wait. Something’s different. Something’s off here.”

My husband kept using the phrase, “Things have come full circle.” I pondered this and it resonated with my epiphany. While the phrase implies continuity of living and growing through milestones, an actual circle is a closed figure; once one is drawn, and the starting point becomes the ending point, it is finished being drawn.

“Things coming full circle” for us truly feels like an era of our lives has come to an end, to include the traditional feelings of home for me.

But, like the implication, another circle has begun.

I think I quoted it best when I tweeted, “Home truly is wherever you make it” in the middle of longing for my own bed again last week.

As military spouses, we strive to maintain whatever sense of normalcy we can at home while our service members are called away. Whether it’s during a PCS, a deployment, a family vacation, or a week of long hours at the office, we create routines and traditions that provide comfort and stability during times of craziness brought on by the military.

So tonight, I realized that, to me, that is what makes home, Home. Not a house. Not a neighborhood. Not a town. Not even memories.

A home is wherever you and your family are—in one place, living happily, healthily, and safely. It’s a state of living in the present and the feelings created when making new memories with those you love.

Home is where the heart is.

Home… is where the military sends us.