A blog about how applying to colleges is opening new doors for me and allowing me to choose my next path for myself.

As you’ve probably heard before and might experience yourself, military families generally get an “itch” to move once they hit that second or third summer. And, well, I never truly understood that. Maybe it’s because my family tended to move over the winter or spring, or maybe we just had spent an inconsistent amount of years in places, but I didn’t understand how someone could start feeling uncomfortable in the place they’ve been living-- how they longed for the restart int

Laying the American Legion Auxiliary wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. 430,005 people lay dead beneath our feet. We are here to commemorate the one unknown. I stand with four others. From the steps, we watch the mechanical movements of the guard—the click of his heels, the measured steps, each movement precise and poised. He turns to face us. The silence deepens. He approaches. Each step he takes rings in my ears. My heart is beating out of my chest. To me, this is

Reflection: The act of taking time to think deeply about your experiences, actions, or emotions. With it being almost two months since I graduated high school and about a week until I head back to the U.S. for college, I’ve done a lot of reflecting. Not just over the past 4 years, but over my life in general and how far I’ve come. In 18 years, I've lived in 10 houses in 8 different places. I've moved 9 times. I've attended 7 schools. But most importantly, I can reflect on all

You’re sitting with new friends. Everything’s completely fine until a story comes up; a memory you don’t share with everyone else at the table, a subtle reminder that you weren’t a part of their lives up until recently. You bounce back after a few seconds, but that moment leaves a lingering feeling that you’re left out on years of memories that you alone don’t share with them, and that there are core memories between them that no amount of explaining will get you in on. These

As I pitched this title idea to my mom, she immediately answered with “no,” but still… For the past six years (and my father isn’t even retired yet), I’ve lived at Fort Leavenworth. After only a year and a half, my family moved into a quiet farmhouse just inside the city limits of Leavenworth. Many of my activities still revolved around post, but I spent most of my time in the community. I’ve participated in service events in the community, spent numerous times at the local

For most of my life, home was never a place. It was moving boxes, new schools, and learning how to say goodbye, before I was ever ready. Then, for the first time, I found people who felt like family. A place where I didn't have to keep wondering when I'd have to leave next. It finally felt like home. Now college is here, and once again, I'm packing up my life to start over. It's exciting, but it's hard to leave the first place that ever made me feel like I truly belonged. May

Summers on a military base often turn out to be the polar opposite of the stereotypical “summer break” advertised by Disney Channel, where popsicles, slip ‘n’ slides, and pool days are replaced with difficult goodbyes, moving trucks, and dingy hotel rooms. The typical summer boredom that sets in for most teenagers in early August is amplified on a military base, merging with lots of the unknown to form a super-obstacle before the next school year. If you’ve ever faced the su

Moving is always hard, and not only for military teens. The smell of moving boxes, school paperwork, and saying goodbyes. Every time I look at a blank wall, I see something new—a blank canvas of possibilities. As a fellow military kid, I know how hard it is to fill up those giant voids surrounding you. Here are a couple of my favorite things to do and some meaningful and interesting things to display when moving into a new place, both inside and outside the house. Quirky Ad

I'm finding myself now growing up and moving on from childhood: a childhood seeped in tradition and culture, cultivated by the people, not a location. From Fort Sam Houston to Fort Benning, Schofield Barracks, and Leavenworth, every place had the same familiar sense as the last. As I grow out of this childhood now, and my life takes a new form, I find myself dwelling in these memories, these specific reminders of the childhood I treasure. These are only some of the little mom

My eighth-grade graduation had me furious, although I was really excited for high school. Movies like High School Musical portray high school as a blast as we sing and dance, and I was convinced I was about to have the time of my life. Looking back now, it was nothing like what I had watched on TV, but at the time, I was just happy to leave middle school behind. Many of my friends felt differently. Towards the end of graduation, tears were falling from many people's eyes as

Most people measure their lives by places. They remember the town they grew up in, the school they attended, or the neighborhood where they spent their childhood. I can’t recall many of those things, but I do remember the music I listened to in such places. As someone who has moved frequently, I have found that certain songs have become bookmarks for different chapters of my life. When I hear them, I can remember exactly where I lived when I discovered it. I remember being li

I recently came across a slam poetry assignment I had done in the 7th grade, and it made me realize just how much my attitude and perspective have changed surrounding being a military kid and everything that comes with that. Here I am standing still Under this summer sun I still feel a chill Here we go again Goodbye goodbye See you soon or never again Friends I have made over and over again One at a time they fade from memory over and over again Whoosh whoosh whoosh Across t

This article was sent to us by Fiona S., an 9th grader Navy Brat stationed in Rhode Island. Do you have a story to share with your fellow military teens? Visit our guest contribution page to find out how you can submit to Bloom! People like me are everywhere, Not allowed to stay in one place, Some people have a choice But that’s not my case. I’ve seen everything, everywhere Scattered like dandelions in the air. It’s 2 years and then I’m gone, Always watching, waiting for anot

I never knew I could find a connection to other people like me. Then I found Bloom. My sister started first as a blog writer, then started The Bloom Room podcast with her other milteen friends. I was in 7th grade at the time, ignorant of many things in the world. I knew at the time my sister joined something related to being a military kid, but I never knew the impact this blog had on kids all over the world. As I grew older, I learned more about what my sister did by reading

They pull themselves into what they cannot see (Sea) pond, or river at all The celestial uncontrollable Which demands a Dance, this chaotic Impossible Request requires Perfection that cannot be achieved From the methodic pattern A flowing pace to Contradict, to meet The tides rising falling, Swing forward, and back Never the same stroke twice; And done again and again, The rhythm of a life Of one who doesn’t stand on stable Ground, new water is rushing and Restarts the stro

The thing that everyone focuses on when you’re a military child, when meeting new people, is always the plethora of places you’ve likely lived—for myself, sprawled across a handful of countries across a handful of continents, I’m doubtlessly familiar with the details of how cool and interesting it was to get the opportunity to live abroad. But the adjective I hated the most was when they would say I was lucky. Off the bat, I don’t have any problem with the word luck; I’m luck

I grew up between time zones, measuring years in PCS, learning that “home” could be a mailbox I learned to stop checking. I became fluent in starting over, new hallways, new faces, new versions of me introduced like I had always been there. Now I’m eighteen, standing at the edge of something louder than moving trucks, where goodbyes don’t come with return dates and I can’t follow behind anymore. They call it becoming an adult, but I still carry every place I left like stamps

When you think of loss in a military aspect, most people think of veterans, war, and soldiers. But how about those who aren’t actively training for war or those who aren’t directly in military service? Most don’t think of military children as those who have experienced loss. But, loss isn’t always death. As a kid, I lost many things. Jackets, toys, et cetera. In a way, that’s still a loss. In the military sense, I have lost some things as well, but it is nowhere close to othe