Since moving to my new assignment in Baltimore, people keep asking me, "Does it feel like home yet?" Well, that depends. What does it mean to be "home"? Is my home in Ohio, where I grew up and all my family lives? Is it in San Diego, where my husband and I are going to retire someday, and where I love to be? Is home in Georgia, where I own a house? Or should home be "wherever the heart is," for example, in Afghanistan?
Now, the Army is moving towards four year assignments, or about four years between moves for Army families. That still means at least five moves over a 20-year career, not including the shorter assignments for training, or overseas assignments that might be only one or two years. That's a lot of packing, driving, unpacking, and settling in.
Since joining the Army, I've learned to be rather detached from any solid concept of home or comfort. My "home" in Iraq was pretty crappy compared to my "home" in Georgia, but I didn't really care as long as I had a roof over my head and some place to plug in my computer. I'm not going to be picky about square footage, kitchen finishes, or bathroom size.
But, of course, no matter where I live, life is always better with friends and family. I can't wait for my husband to come back and see my new place in Baltimore, and I can't wait for new friends once I start school. Until then, here's to another place to call home along the way.