Circa April 17, 2011
I was chatting on the phone to a good friend today about how the Batallion Command list had been released and how everyone the hubby wanted to work for ended up in units at Camp Lejeune–my worst nightmare. I caught myself saying, “I just…I need a minute.” I need a minute to think. This *means* something. I know it. It always does. The universe is trying to tell me to breathe. It’s trying to tell me to slow down and consider our options. Something, somewhere out there is tugging at my pant like and trying to get my attention.
Does this mean I’m supposed to move to Lejeune? I don’t want to move to Lejuene! Oh. My. Goodness! Does this mean I’m going HOME, to Pendleton!? What the heck are we supposed to do now?
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Options for our next duty station were to request Camp Pendleton and take a chance for the hubby to work for someone he didn’t know and trust or to request Lejeune where he knew and trusted the Batallion Commanders who made the list. I wanted to go home to California so badly–we were living in Virginia at the time. But in the end, we decided that the most important thing about a duty assignment was not the place. It’s the people. Everything else is just geography. We made the right decision to go to Lejune for any number of reasons.
- we made amazing friends–military and civilian
- hubby worked for a solid dude
- we lived at the beach every day for two and a half years
- we lived somewhere totally different than anywhere we had been before
- we grew closer as a family
Our next set of orders eventually brought us back to California and I know I will cry when we have to leave again. At least now North Carolina isn’t such a scary option. Who knows what will happen next!