Recently, a local mum asked me if I miss living in the United States. We’ve been stationed in England for almost two years now, and haven’t been back ‘home’ for a visit yet. I didn’t have to think long though before answering though. With every PCS it becomes clearer. It’s never really the location that I miss – it’s the people.
Moving as often as we do teaches us that a duty station is just a spot on a map until you build a life there. A life that is filled not just with activities a town offers, but with little moments. Life is shaped by the people we interact with every day. Late night conversations in a friend’s kitchen. Familiar faces in the Commissary. Neighbors at the local playground. The barista who knows your coffee order. People who quietly become part of your everyday life. It’s people who make these places feel like home, not the place itself.
We do not live in a vacuum. We build our lives around community with other people. We build rhythms around each other. We learn who always sticks around for a chat after school drop offs. We learn who we can count on to be at story time on Tuesdays. We learn which parent always has extra sunscreen at the park. Ordinary routines feel anchored because someone else is part of them.
So when we move, or someone else moves, everything shifts. The location still exists as it always has, but something about it has fundamentally changed. The version of that base that felt so familiar no longer exists. Even if you return, you know it won’t be the same, because the people that were there with you have also moved on. So over the years I haven’t really grieved places – I’ve been grateful for people.
And maybe that’s the beautiful part of living many lives in so many places: learning that home is less about geography and more about connection. The places fade and blur over time, but the people remain vivid. They are what made each season special. They are what I carry with me after every goodbye.
