and less than 2 years later, it is time to leave...and it is definitely now official with the arrival of these stickers.
It seems that with this move, we have been graced with red stickers. In the last 6 moves, we have had green, blue, white, black, and different hues of these colors. Hubby and I have in the past tried to remember which color belonged with what move, and we have laughed at our nomadic life. Who else can talk about these little stickers with such fondness (or disdain?), but a military family?
These stickers, and moving, have become such a part of our being that I have stopped removing them if they are not easily seen. My children's crib still display four of these stickers, and I refuse to remove them...they are like patches on a uniform, or stickers on a suitcase, or on a car bumper.
My dresser had a few right next to one another, and I even wondered if this was a small game that the packers played with one another...did they talk about how many stickers certain families had? Do they, too, try to guess where these families have been?
...such importance attached to those tiny little things...
So here we go again, our everyday existence in boxes, our most important material commodities reduced to numbered stickers. We've done it 6 times before, and with this 7th time it has proved itself to be a part of a ritual within myself that I thought I would never, really, get used to.
But as the paper and tape flew in the air and the boxes were being packed I felt a sense of normalcy. And acceptance.
That the friends I have made will always remain in my heart.
That the things I have in these boxes do not define my life.
That the Family Hubby and I have grown will flourish wherever we go.
And thus is the story of this Military Life.