I have been back from deployment since late November, but it feels like it was just a few weeks ago. I can't believe I am a few short months away from my one-year anniversary of being home.
Home ...
I am in a new place now. My uniform now hangs in the closet, only seeing the light of day once a month. It feels strange to wear it so infrequently these days, especially since that was primarily how I defined myself for the past 14 years.
Even when I took the year 2005 off, I still defined myself as a Soldier and then a mother. Nothing else. I wasn't much of a wife, although I did try. (To be fair, he wasn't much of a husband, either, but I digress ... We were both young and a bit immature.)
Now I catch myself in the mirror and see a stranger staring back at me. Who is that woman with my mother's face and the fading auburn hair with a grey streak to rival Rogue from X-men or Nancy from Nightmare on Elm Street?
I bade farewell to my 20's on my first deployment to Iraq, celebrating the "big three-oh" under mortar fire and desert stars, with little other fanfare, so it didn't really sink in that my youth was rapidly dissipating. As I teeter on the cusp of 40, I wonder where the time has gone.
I am not afraid of aging, and I have no qualms about owning it, but it is a little unnerving how fast it all goes by.
Which leads me to where I am now and how I got here.
I farmed my resume out to a number of places before returning from Iraq in November, but came home without a plan. Because nearly all the positions I applied for were government jobs, I had not received word on any of them. The process is long and cumbersome. I had a couple telephonic interviews while still overseas, and one potential employer in particular was pretty aggressive, but the job was in the D.C. area with 70% travel annually, and I needed warm weather and a break.
I turned it down, self-nominated on a few more listings, and ultimately returned to the states with no job, no home to speak of, and absolutely no idea what I was going to do. So, I did what any self-respecting unemployed, homeless, almost-middle-aged person would do: run home to mommy.
Thankfully, my mom and stepdad are pretty awesome people, and they opened their loving arms and home to me without question. I was planning to stay there for only a few weeks, but every time I mentioned hitting the road and heading West, Mom would say, "Do you have to go? You could hang out longer. We have [insert event] coming up; maybe you could leave the week after that." She missed me.
Well, there was always another event coming -- someone's birthday, a party, a quilt show, local job fair -- and I didn't really need strong arguments to keep me there. I was thoroughly enjoying my mom's company. This was the most time we had spent together under the same roof since 1991. I missed her.
Right around the time I could feel my stepdad's concern that I may become a permanent tenant in their southern Florida retirement home, I received a call from Fort Huachuca, Ariz., in February. I vaguely knew where that was and did not remember applying for the job. It was that long ago. I didn't think I was even qualified for it, but they believed otherwise, thank goodness.
I immediately jumped online and began looking for a place to live and quickly realized that it would be much cheaper to pay a mortgage than rent, so I called my bank (USAA, by the way, an awesome company that offers financial and insurance services for veterans, service members and their families) and was pre-approved for a home loan 30 minutes later.
I couldn't believe it. I packed everything I could into my little Civic a few days later and hit the road. A childhood friend from summer camp lives in Phoenix (three hours north of the new job), and he offered me his spare room so I could house-hunt before reporting to work.
I had another friend (although we had never met in person) in Phoenix, whom I had met through a mutual friend and colleague. (He retired from the Army before my deployment and was my pen-pal throughout.) So I thought I was starting off on the right foot. I already knew two people in my future state of residence!
The journey from southern Florida to Phoenix took several days because I stopped in central Texas for a bit to visit old Army friends who were still there, and because I was meandering on and off of old Route 66, for kicks. (Ha.) I was still on leave from the Army and didn't have to report to the new job until mid-March, so I had some wiggle room for fun along the way.
It was simultaneously liberating, exhilarating and terrifying. Once again, I was on my way to a new start in life. This should be old hat by now.
**It's late; more to come another day.**
