"It costs nothing to have a little faith, so when times get tough, we might as well give it a try."
So to me, a Permanent Change of Station can be looked at a lot like a deployment. No matter how many you have under your belt, the next one will be different. It may be more difficult. It may be easier. But it will certainly be different.
For me, this move will go down in the Young family's military history as the worst move ever.
When people ask me, "Do you want the good news or the bad news?" I always choose the bad news first. So let's talk about yesterday.
The boys and I had all gone to bed late Monday night, so we were a little late getting started Tuesday morning. But the dog had to go to doggie daycare and we had to be back in time to meet the movers.
We made it back to the house with a little time to spare, and the movers showed up on time. Everything seemed to be going well, and then I heard, "Mrs. Young..." .
The driver bellowed my name, and then the other boot fell. The driver informed me that the customer who they picked up before us had been grossly underestimated, so our shipment of household goods would have to be split into two shipments.
Not my favorite thing to hear, but it could be a lot worse, right? I thought that maybe our first shipment would show up on Monday and the next shipment might show up on Tuesday or Wednesday.
Um. No. They took the important stuff on our first shipment, beds, clothes, kitchen, kitchen table and chairs, one living room set, and television. Everything else is going into storage until there is a driver to bring it to us.
I kept thinking, "This could be worse. It really could be worse. This happens to people every day."
Then, it got worse.
The boys and I had dropped off some trash and we were headed into town to pick up the dog. I will fully admit to you that I was driving distracted. We are moving. Sweet soldier and sweet girl have gone ahead to the new location. And we are trying to close on a house.
My phone buzzed and I looked down. When I looked back up, I was face to face with a red Dodge Ram tailgate. Everyone was ok (thank you, Chevrolet!), but that really puts a wrinkle in my life.
So now, the items that I have load planned for a Chevy Suburban, which include a 75-pound dog and his crate, all have to fit in a Dodge Journey. Comparatively speaking, the journey is about half the size of my suburban.
But the good news is that as I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room somewhere in Illinois, having cleared housing on the first try and already driven eight hours. The dog barked all night, but I am watching my two sweet boys sleep as I wait for the first taste of coffee to soothe my soul.
This journey is difficult, but this morning, I showered, put on my Tough Mudder Finisher tshirt, brushed my teeth with my son's toothbrush and know that I will reach my new life, at our new station, today.
My will to reach the finish line well surpasses my frustration with my current situation, and by the time I go to sleep tonight, I will be in my home state in my new house.
Just a Note:
I have to say thank you to all of my neighbors and friends who rallied around us to help when the accident happened. You were there to pick up the boys and offer rides. You asked if we needed help, you jumped in and helped. A sincere thank you to my friends, Alison and her husband, Joey, Cris and her husband, Dave, Leslie and her husband, Mark, and Stacy and her daughter, Cameron. You guys are why they call it an "Army Family"! My sincerest thanks for everything!
May the moving gods smile upon you and may only the junk that you don't like get broken...SBY
