one year reflections

You know you're connected to the military community when anything longer than two years seems like a long time to live in the same place.

For several weeks after arriving here, I felt like a guest, like this was Alan's home and I was here temporarily. It took a while for me to acclimate myself to this building, to these four walls, and the fact that this is my home. And sometimes when I'm standing at the threshold and I've just opened the front door, I still catch a whiff of the fresh this-is-my-first-time-walking-in-this-door scent (which reminds me of the this-is-freshman-year scent that the dorm used to have at the beginning and end of every school year). But regardless of the scent that greets me (fortunately, it has yet to be anything unpleasant), I no longer feel like this is just a visit--I feel like I'm home.

When I am in an airport USO around familiar haircuts and young women with baby strollers and no husbands in sight, I know and I am home.

When I am driving around post or reading in my backyard and hear mess call echoing across the way like some martial adhan, I am home.

When someone asks me how long I've been at Ft. Hood and I can no longer say, "Since the end of June," I am home.

When I water the yard and hear the announcement jingle echo from the Jeep dealership, I think of sweltering summer days and trickling rivulets that are impossibly hot and hunting for fossils like Dad and I used to do, and I am home.

When I water the yard, I am home. Because seriously, who waters grass and why are there gaping cracks in my backyard and why can't we have a basement?

When I select my ID card by feel amidst the pile of plastic in my wallet as I'm exiting the highway, I am home.

When I vacuum the carpet for the third time that day because the dogs track dirt inside but I'm happy because this is my house and I want it to be clean, I am home.

When I wait at the window for Alan's truck to pull in the driveway because he texted, "On my way home" a few minutes ago and then race three dogs to the front door because everyone wants his attention, I am home.