This article was sent to us by Sabela M., an 8th grader Marine Brat stationed in Virginia. 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! Sabela and her mom when they went to Romania to get away from the sirens for a bit. When my parents told me we were being stationed in Israel, I didn’t really know much about it or what was in store for me. I just knew I felt sad, because it meant sayi

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

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

Recently, I had a conversation with my friend about our last few months of high school. As we discussed the changes we would soon face and the last few months before graduation, she said something that resonated with me. She explained that she was having a hard time being in the present, knowing that soon her community would completely change. At that moment, I realized that what she said applied to me not only as a senior in high school, but also as a military child -- and t

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

I learned early that goodbye is a language spoken quietly in parking lots, in driveways full of cardboard boxes, in hallways where lockers close for the last time. Being a military kid means you grow up measuring life in school years and duty stations, friends who stay for two years, sometimes one, sometimes just long enough to learn their favorite song before they disappear on a new map. But this year feels different. Senior year sits heavy in my hands, like a suitcase that

This article is part of the Bloom Spotlight series, where we aim to recognize current and former military teens who are doing amazing things. If you know a current or former military teen (regardless of age) who is impacting the military community in a way that deserves to be recognized, visit our Bloom Spotlight page. Kelsey Dardas is a sophomore in high school who is heavily involved and accomplished in rifle shooting. She shoots on a club team and through her school’s J

“Where are you from?” It’s one of the most rudimentary, typical questions in the world, one that most people answer without having to think twice about it. However, as a military teen, it's never been that simple, because the truth is that I’m not really from anywhere. Most people have a hometown, somewhere that they can claim as their own, a place where they and their family have lived for many years. But my answer has never been definite. Do I say where I was born? Where I

My sister likes to think of our childhood as nomadic, always packing up and moving from one place to another. I remember the boxes in our garage or storage that remained there for years, only to be moved again. Now and then, the content of those boxes would change, yet their meaning remained the same -- an imminent reminder of the next time we’d have to move. When I was younger, I never paid much mind to those boxes, always playing and hanging out with those whom I called fr

This article was sent to us by Ellanora W., an 11th grader Marine Brat stationed in Utah. 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! Say goodbye Once again another goodbye Goodbye friends Goodbye house I used to call home Goodbye school I used to wander Goodbye barn that brought it all back Hello, a phrase I’m sick of hearing Hello to the new room Hello to the new school Hello to th

I first stumbled across the word “hiraeth” on TikTok under a video titled “beautiful words that describe obscure emotions.” After skipping through the slideshow and periodically jotting down new vocabulary to cram into my AP Lang essays, one word caught my eye. “Hiraeth” is a Welsh word, and while it doesn’t have a direct English translation, it is commonly described as a certain complex type of homesickness, sometimes for a home that was brief or nonexistent, or even one tha

One day, something fell from the ceiling of my bedroom. It wasn’t loud enough to startle me, just a soft tap against the old carpeted floor that had been in every one of my bedrooms. I looked down and saw a blue glow-in-the-dark star -- o ne of the dozens I had stuck to my ceiling two or three years ago. The sticky plaster had finally given up. I picked it up, like it was asking me to, sitting in the middle of the newly vacuumed floor, ruining the symmetry. It felt so dusty a

They line up in caps and gowns, a soft parade down familiar halls, each step returning them to a classroom that never left them. Teachers wait with knowing smiles, walls still painted the same colors, floors remembering exactly where they grew up. I stand at the edge of the line, tassel brushing my cheek, searching for a doorway that could claim me. But my childhood is scattered four playgrounds, two countries, pledge of allegiance in different languages. I learned two alphab

My first day of school in Germany, my skin still tan from the sun in Georgia. Dearest Germany, The first time I met you was July 4, 2018. I was jet-lagged and could barely keep my eyes open. I didn’t even realize I met you at that moment; I was too tired. My memories of the first day together were captured through an out-of-focus camera lens at the airport, the drive to the hotel, and then sleeping -- all seen through a blur. As the days passed, though, I got to know a little

With all the changes that come with a military child, my last change will be in April 2026. My father is retiring, and with that, it feels like I am losing part of my life. I have known nothing else but this lifestyle; moving every one to two years has been the one thing consistent in my life. Now, I will stay. For the first time in my life, I will not be moving this summer. I can already feel myself getting antsy. Without the preparations for a move that would be happening

This article was sent to us by Loralie H., a 9th grader Army brat stationed in Oklahoma. 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! I finally found it! My niche, my group, my clique, My team. This is my place These are my people And just now when I’ve found it all We got orders… Three more months Three more months in the place I love with my whole heart I want to stay right here