The Transition Out

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 moments I'll remember that made up my life for the past 17 years, and possibly yours as well: the beautiful parts I'll carry with me into the next chapter.

I'll remember being sung to sleep to Rock-a-bye Baby- and The Big Red One. To America the Beautiful- and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

I'll cherish the friends I met at every Hail-and-Farewell, the ones I never knew the names of but felt like I had known forever as we climbed up and down trees and stole food from the tables.

I'll retain the sounds of the 6:30 wakeup on the PA system, and taps at 2100.

I'll miss the familiar "It's such a small world" as we hug the people whose paths intertwined themselves with ours through years and states.

I'll experience unfamiliar Halloweens with no trunk-or-treats and Christmases without lights strung around tanks.

I'll learn the code to a security system we never needed on post, and start to have people over without visitor passes.

I'll watch as we give away the plastic beach chairs we don't need anymore, the ones that we used to drag out to sit around a fire with the neighbors.

I won't see any more flyers on the fridge for neighborhood potlucks or meet-and-greets in the summer.

I'll know our address off the top of my head and start to forget the old ones.

I'll treasure every "moving gift" I planned so meticulously, the curtains and paintings, toys and decor.

I'll search through my old yearbooks, a different uniform in each picture, and a smile with the best friend I don't know anymore.

I'll miss unit softball games, or Troop Olympics, where I would watch cheering in the stands.

I'll still pull out my ID at the grocery store, remembering the commissary and its familiar checkout.

I'll awe at the memory of watching paratrooper practices, the towers, and the jumps.

I'll remember "no hat, no salute" zones and gate guard conversations as we drove in.

I'll still look for the plaques on houses, searching for the names of old friends during PCS season.

And slowly these experiences, the little moments that made up my life for so long, will be nothing but memories. Sitting and reminiscing on my childhood, this is the part of being a "Military-brat" that is so hard to explain, and why it is so different than a civilian childhood. It's things like these in conversation and culture that are hard to articulate and explain; moments when a friend asks me "what is a commissary?" and I realize the parts of my childhood that most of the people I know will never experience. Being a teen now and starting to feel the shift out of this life, I've been feeling a longing and nostalgia for the things I never realized were so specific to my childhood. The hardest part of my transition hasn't been the big moving days and stressful chaos, but the quiet moments when I realize how much really is changing, and how many tiny senses I'm leaving behind.

Being a teen is centered around change; it's the universal experience of growing and feeling true homesickness and reminiscence for the first time. But being a mil-teen has emphasized this for me, and made me feel like I am truly leaving behind one world for a new one; leaving my home for another place I'm unfamiliar with. But the most beautiful part of this culture is built around its simultaneous ephemerality and vastness. It didn't start with me, it won't end with me, and it is carried out through every service member, spouse, and child.

If you're reading this as a military teen or even just a teenager, please know that you're not alone. This uncomfortable "in-between" is the inherent nature of this chapter of life, and no matter where you find yourself, there is someone who is feeling the same way. So, as I navigate this new space and leave behind these memories, I know I'll always have this childhood, this community, and this culture engraved in the person I am, and who I'm becoming; and whoever you are, however you were raised, those same "little moments" will always be a part of your life, and engraved in your character.