PCS Season

You can generally tell when it's PCS season.  The moving trucks seem to multiply, the curbside loads up with empty boxes.  Depending on who is moving, either your pantry is nearly empty or your fridge gets filled with those last few things that just couldn't be used up.

I currently have two packages of salmon, three biscuit cans, and a container of peppermint whipped cream in my possession.  I will admit to a strange sort of fascination with the odd flotsam and jetsam that turns up during this particular turn of the tide.

One of the toughest things about being a military spouse is saying goodbye.  It seems like we do it on a constant basis.  Goodbye to husbands, goodbye to favorite schools and teachers and doctors...  Goodbye to dear friends.

Sometimes we are really blessed and we wind up stationed together again.

Facebook makes it easier, too, than it used to be-- we can still check in on the daily little details of our friends' lives.

But it still stinks.  The last hard squeeze, the glimpse of a face twisted in grief.  Miserable.

I've done this before.  Growing up, I never moved-- but all of my dearest friends, did.  To this day, I keep in touch with one friend from third grade whom I have not seen in person since we were 11.

I'm good at long-distance.  I guess that was all preparation for an Army life.

But I don't like this part.  It still hurts.

On the other hand, I am so blessed by the friendships I've made, thanks to the Army.  I am thankful beyond measure for what we have shared, for those conversations and those funny little get-togethers that have knitted together our hearts.

I shall miss you.

You know I'll keep in touch.  Not quite stalker-ish, but certainly here for you.

Love you, my friends.