Not "Where" But "Who" (2nd Place)

The following essay is the second place winner of our 2025 Month of the Military Child Writing Contest. The theme was, "Home is Where the Orders Take Us." Congratulations to Maya A., a high school senior!

I don’t agree with the theme: “Home is where the orders take us.” It’s never been true for me, especially after moving nine times. The word I don’t agree with is “where.” Home is where the orders take us? As a military kid with a nuanced and unorthodox perspective of home, I don’t think of home as a place anymore. Locations have become so blurred, and I don’t remember them as much.

When I was a kid, the places changed so much that I never remembered street names or my house color. I remembered the people. Most of my memories and that “homely feel” are tied to the people I was with.

Recently, I was trying to explain to my mom one of my earliest ever memories. I can’t remember where I was, but I remember who I was with. I remember being in the car with my mom and my childhood best friend, Caroline. I remember giggling at Tangled’s “Mother Knows Best” because the way Mother Gothel said “mumsy” was hilarious to us for some reason. I don’t remember how old we were, but I know we were young because we were still in car seats. (I only remember this because I remember wanting to hug Caroline when we dropped her off, but I couldn’t unbuckle myself.)

I include this memory because I remember feeling so happy, safe, and that warm “at home" feeling. Even though I was in the car, I felt “at home.” As I’ve grown up, this “homely” feeling I get is purely from the way I was treated or accepted by the community.

For instance, one move was particularly good location-wise and house-wise. We had no problems on that end, but I had an extremely hard time making friends, and our neighbors weren’t the most inviting. It was like the outside turned grey and lifeless, and it didn’t matter how nice our house was or how good the schools were, it only mattered how I was being treated by the people on the inside.

From then on, I’ve always had a negative outlook on that move, and I can declare that, outside of being with my family, I wasn’t at “home.” It all depends on the surrounding community to make a place a “home.” To that logic, as a military kid, my family has and always will be my consistent home.

As far as college goes, it has been an extremely weird thought. I will have a new home - my friends, roommates, and my college community. My family will continue to move while I stay put. I’ve thought about if people were to ask where my “home” was, and I would just respond with wherever my family is.

In a similar way, “home” for me has also been so many people outside of my family. They are people who make me feel safe, comfortable, and loved. If I were to rewrite the theme I would say that “home isn’t where the orders bring us, it’s who they bring us to.”