A lament (a bitty one)

It is summer, and thus PCS season is upon us once again. PCS is military lingo for Permanent Change of Station, and basically means that military members and their families move to a different base. Most people PCS, or move, in the summer, and as a result our town is once again full of out-of-state and even foreign license plates. For a tag-freak like myself, you can only imagine the fun I have figuring out the different license plates and their mottos. And the first time I saw car with a German ‘HK’ tag driving slowly around base, I was forcibly reminded of our family a year ago, in the exact same position.

Another result of impending PCS season is the fear that your friends will receive orders for another base. When you move as often as I have, making friends who are not from the local area is vital for your survival. You need someone to not only tell you about best stores, hairdressers, and dentists but also to listen and understand when you feel like you've moved to the capital of the boonies. Someone who´s been there and who can offer words of comfort when you feel completely lost and alone in a sea of southerners.

Now I have had the very good fortune of meeting two women who have helped me settle into my new home. One of them moved here at the same time I did, and so we both got to go through learning the bewildering layout of our town and figuring out where to go for carpet cleaning at the same time. My other friend, Summer, has lived in this area for a few years, and thus has been a perfect soundboard for all my questions and complaints. It's actually thanks to her that I now use southern words such as 'bitty' and other slightly less appropriate terms in my daily vocabulary. As Summer lives across the street, she is also my go-to girl when it comes to issues such as guinneapig-care and whom to call if you see a stray dog. Her li’l one gets along famously with our kids, and so the fours of us have spend many evenings sitting on our back porch, watching the kids play.

Unfortunately, the powers that be were not in my corner this time, as Summer and her husband recently told me they will be moving away. To say I was unhappy would be an understatement. Of course you always, somewhere, in the back of your mind, know that someday, someone is going to have to move, but on a daily basis, I think we all tend to ignore that voice. So when Summer’s husband told us his shop was moving, it came as a shock. Who am I going to talk to about life in the bible belt now? Who will share my fear of cockroaches, and the desire the instant you see one, to clean and bomb your entire house? Who will offer me chocolates and give me wine after a long day at work?

I know we will both find our way, and since they’re not moving to the other side of the world (which is, truth be told, a real possibility for most), we will be seeing them in the future. But it won’t be the same as walking across the street and saying hi.

Usually, I don’t mind military life. Usually, I cherish all its different facets; the opportunity to meet different people, to move halfway across the world, the security offered by the life we lead. But right now, I’m not really feeling it.