It has finally happened.

My children are settled.

After six military moves in 14 years, they like where we have landed for retirement. And my husband and I are breathing a sigh of relief.

Our last move was a gamble. We had never lived in this state or this part of the country. But we were both offered great jobs – an oddity as most military families know – and we couldn’t pass up the steady paychecks in favor of continuing to search aimlessly, moving from town to town like Goldilocks in search of the perfect fit.

So we went.

Everything about this place is different than any place we had lived before: the food, the long drawn out words, the manners, the catchphrases.

We’ve lived in unusual places, where the neighborhoods, customs and even the language was completely foreign. Our children did well. They assimilated and had fun but they were never settled. They dealt, they thrived but if you asked them point blank if they wanted to stay forever, the answer was a resounding, no.

This morning as I was looking over lovely, snow-covered photos my friends had sent from my New England hometown I mentioned, half-jokingly, to my husband that we should move there next.

“No.”

Across the room my son repeated again, “No. I like it here. I don’t want to move.”

And just like that, we were done. We had found our home.

The kids have made friends they don’t want to leave. They are active in clubs and activities that they want to see through for more than a few semesters. They have found their perfect fit.

And as far as I’m concerned, it is just right.