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

Around two months ago, I found out that I would be leaving my current station of almost three years and moving back to my previous station this summer. This would be my first move after my dad’s retirement, and this news excited me—the thought of returning to a place I was so in love with, leaving my small school, and getting to reunite with my friends again. However, I recently realized that this would be my last move before I go to college. Never before have I had my futur

There’s a strange kind of quiet that occurs with endings you’ve been expecting your whole life. Not a sudden ending — not the kind that interrupts or unravels quickly — but the kind that comes up on you slowly, almost like turning a page in a thick book. The kind that you grow up knowing will happen “one day” without ever actually knowing when that day is or what it will actually feel like when it arrives. My dad is retiring from the Marine Corps this year after 25 years of s

There’s a popular trend on most social media platforms, based on the concept of “lost faces”, having memories of loved ones but being unable to remember their faces. I never thought about it twice, because I always assumed I was exempt. While trying to work through my amazing writer's block, I searched through my memories for something of relevance. The most I could remember were snapshots of specific places in my mind. The more I thought, the more I could remember. One pic

As school ends and summer comes around the corner, I know it’s time when many military kids are getting ready to pack up and leave the place they once called home. I know this can be a difficult process for us all, no matter how many times we claim we are 'used to it.' So I wrote this version of “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” but as 'Twas the Night Before the Move, because I know so many military kids can relate to these feelings. Twas the night before the move, in a ha

“121!” Nina shouts out another trail marker, but her originally peppy, satisfied tone has worn off into a blunt statement of fact. One marker in 10 minutes, yep, seems about right. This hike will never end. My stomach is pinched by the hip strap of my bag that I pulled too tightly to myself, my shoes get increasingly heavy with every “not–so–dry” patch of mud I step into. I’d rather just stop here and sleep, there’s no point to this anyways. Maybe we took a wrong turn, I hav

A beautiful nature trail at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. “The land knows you, even when you are lost.” That is a quote from Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer. Most military children would guffaw at the idea -- we're always moving consistently, adapting to entirely different environments, constantly being the outsider in what feels like a fortressed community. How could the land know us? If we are peo

In a life with so much change, so much inconsistency from year to year, living on base has been my rock. From year zero to fifteen, I always knew that, no matter what, I could come back to base at the end of a long day, safe from any problems in the outside world. Living on base was my ultimate refuge, the only constant between each new duty station. No matter how new or uncomfortable the outside world looked from year to year, I always had the Commissary, my favorite Freedo

When was the last time you compared yourself to someone around you? Comparing yourself to other people isn’t always a bad thing. Comparison can be constructive if it motivates you to do better, but more often than not, it can become a dangerous habit that must be broken. Comparing myself to others is something I personally struggle with, so I understand how it feels. I understand the discouragement it can bring. It's easy to fall down a rabbit hole of comparing yourself to ot

Currently, as a teenage girl living in the suburban Midwest, my life is stereotypically boring. I live in what one may argue is a copy-and-paste suburban house, go to my local public high school, play a sport, and am part of the school musical. My daily routine doesn’t really vary; besides the occasional plans with my friends and family vacations, my life is calmly repetitive. If you look at the definition of boredom itself, then my current situation can undoubtedly be deem