Keep on Moving!
The summer season is sweating our way, but for many military families, summertime is not evocative of sandy beaches, or big boats, or even over-glamorized stay-cations. Rather, the approaching summer months herald the arrival of the 18-wheeler moving truck. The truck itself is neither problematic nor challenging; it is the effort required to engage with the truck at both the departure and the destination locations that is duly daunting to military families—most often, the military spouse.
My engagement with the military moving machine began the morning after my service member and I exchanged ridiculously inadequate vows of “for better or for worse.” Seven moves in 10 years has found that phrase to be utterly lacking in the necessary descriptors, even if he refuses to relinquish his eight-drawer, 500-pound, plywood desk with the 10-shelf hutch, even if the ubiquitous military shipping containers of mystery “gear” require the majority of the garage and spill over into any available storage space, even if you’re moving with a newborn and a 4-year-old while he’s on a jaunt to the Middle East, world peace notwithstanding.
Military spouses don’t dream of summer vacations at the beach nor tanning at the shore; military spouses dream of sheets and towels being packed in boxes actually labeled “sheets” and “towels,” with no dirty blender surprises shoved in the four inches of space found in the right hand corner of the “towel” box.
Military spouses don’t dream of summer vacation cruise cuisine nor glamorous ports of call; military spouses triumphantly high-five after passing the military housing move-out inspection, after gathering in small, somewhat-delirious groups to share tips on refrigerator bleaching, paint primer application, and grape juice blemish removal from stain-sucking acrylic carpet.
Military spouses strategically plan trips to the Installation Transportation Office around nap time and early release school days while contemplating the need for a cooler of snacks as opposed to digging through car seats for stale goldfish once realizing they’re the 18th family in a slow-moving line.
Miraculously (note that every successful military move should evoke at last a moment of significant spiritual thanksgiving at both the successful loading and subsequent unloading of the 18-wheeler), the 18-wheeler generally holds all the household goods, down to the last pink scooter held gingerly in place while the driver slams the rear doors shut, leaving you huddled with the family and relatives unfortunate enough to live within a drivable geographic area, all exhausted, sweaty, and dehydrated, surveying the ripped up front lawn, the mangled door frames, and the remaining trash and miscellaneous non-movable goods (cleaning supplies, paint cans, sparkly blue nail polish) that will require endless trips to the nearest recycling center that will inevitably be closed until three days after you’re due to depart.
As the truck exits the street and rumbles into the night, you’ll let yourself daydream for a moment—of white sands, cool waters, and deck chairs facing the sun—while listening to your children exclaim: “We’re moving into a hotel—it has a pool! Vending machines! Room service! Cable! We get to eat out every meal!”
And, for a few minutes, you’ll experience a relief—a peace remarkably similar to that sensed on the day summer vacation ends and school restarts. And you’ll start thinking of the new friends you’ll make and the adventures you’ll have at your next duty station.
Alas, the relief will be short-lived as you recall that all your family’s possessions, good, battered, and highly fingerprinted (but all necessary in some way) are on a nondescript 18-wheeler, at the mercy of a highly caffeinated driver, hurdling through parts unknown, to a secretive storage destination.
Forego curling up in a fetal position in the highly trafficked grass; rather, research the many free resources found at MilitarybyOwner to ensure a smooth move to your next duty station.
