navy spouse

She Used to Live There

I had one of those moments today.

One of those moments that I’ve had all too often as a Navy spouse. Not the good kind. The boy-this-sucks-civilian-life-doesn’t-sound-so-bad kind. Okay that last bit is an exaggeration, but it was a sucky moment.

I was driving through base housing to visit a friend when I passed by a familiar house, the house of a friend on our boat.

My first thought was, “Hi, Cheryse!”

My second thought was, “That’s not Cheryse’s car…”

Then I remembered that she doesn’t live there anymore. She and her family followed the tide of moving season and packed up and moved away. Just as I had gotten to know her and just as our little girls had become friends, the Navy decided that they should go and that we should stay.

It made me sad.

Partially because she’s a great gal, and I feel like our friendship has just begun, and partially because I’ve made that trip and passed that house-that-doesn’t-belong-to-insert-name-here-anymore far too many times.

I remember driving through housing in Connecticut one day and counting the houses of friends who had moved on. The number was ugly. Before I left Connecticut I could count more of those houses than the kind with my friends actually still living in them.

And that makes me sad, too.

It’s a moment all military spouses probably become all too familiar with. Driving past houses that used-to-belong-to someone we cared about. I am only consoled by the fact that for each of those houses I can count another lovely family in my ever-widening web of Navy family that stretches across oceans. I am consoled by conversations in different time zones, and I am consoled by Christmas cards from everywhere. It doesn’t make it easier to drive past those houses. It does, however, remind me that it’s worth it.



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