Home is Where the Heart Is
Home is where the heart is, or so the old adage goes. But that doesn’t accurately encompass the complexities of military life. My children and my husband are my heart, and they’re here with me, but Colorado doesn’t feel like home yet. So when does a place feel like home and not just a place you live? I recently posed the question on my Facebook page confident that my military connections would have the answer. Responses included: When you can get to the grocery store without navigation When you make real/genuine friendships When you feel comfortable in the area When you’re involved in the community (both an answer and a…
From the Oceans to the Mountains
Every blog I’ve written in the last couple of years has started with a simple thought. Over a short (and sometimes not so short) amount of time, the idea rolled around in my brain until it was fleshed out and shared here in my blog. But for the past month, ideas haven’t had time to marinate or be thoughtfully considered, hence the lack of posting. My brain has been functioning in a hop-skip-jump pattern. It’s the effect of trying to process too many things at one time and ending up glitching like the little girl in Wreck-It-Ralph. The catalyst behind my glitch? We moved. From the beautiful beaches of the…
When the time comes…
They don’t know me here. They know my husband, and perhaps know of us, maybe our reputation proceeds us— for good or bad, who knows. When I arrive, I am just a name. A handshake introduction, an awkward conversation; where are you from, what do you do? Simple questions that I can’t answer simply. There are simple facts to learn, Lauren, age thirty—*cough*, stay at home mom of four. They see the put together(ish) appearance that I aim for and that I am a special needs parent. Given time they will learn what that entails. We will eventually talk about my daughter, I’ll teach them the word hydranencephaly and try…
