Leaving Base

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 Freedom’s Choice candy, and the BX. The structure of life on base helped me thrive. I could count on the roar of C-130s flying over my head in the afternoon, always wondering if my dad was up there. Every Friday was ‘Flight suit Friday,’ and every day at 5 pm, I stopped to listen to Retreat and the National Anthem. 

But my favorite thing about living on base (and being a military brat in general) was the community. Throughout my childhood, school was a constant source of stress. I was always anxious and had a hard time integrating with my classmates. I never felt like I could connect with the kids around me; I was insecure about being different, about my background that no one else seemed to understand.

On base, I was never too different or too new. I didn’t have to worry about being accepted, about talking too much while trying to explain my life story. With no words at all, I knew that the people around me understood who I was and were happy to welcome me into their lives. I made one of my best friends this way. To this day, almost six years and three moves later, she’s the person I go to who I know will understand what I have to say, all thanks to our time on base together. 

Being on base was a privilege I couldn’t fully appreciate until I started to lose it. During my freshman year, my family received our newest set of orders to the Pentagon. Because there isn’t a base specifically for Pentagon workers, that meant we had to live in the civilian world. In the months leading up to PCS season, I reflected on how much living on base has shaped me. It was the main feature in the core memories of my childhood, a safe place that I would very soon not have access to.

The move to DC came all too quickly. It was just another new house, another new neighborhood, but something fundamental was missing. Our neighbors were all complete strangers, not my parents’ friends and coworkers. I haven’t met some of them to this day, while on base, I would have known everyone’s name and wing by the end of the first week. There weren’t any community-wide events, no squadron trick-or-treat, no Month of the Military Child. The military community I depended on, once so present in my life, was suddenly gone. 

Now, as a junior and with college approaching, my life will be turned upside down once again. Even though my base days are far behind me and I’m looking ahead towards a completely new life, I’ll always be grateful for the home it gave me throughout my childhood. I have no idea what my new friends will be like, where I’ll live, or who I’ll grow into being, but I know that my time on base will come with me wherever I go.