There’s a moment every year—somewhere between the last gold leaf falling and the first frost clinging to the window—when I feel the shift.
The air turns quieter. The evenings stretch longer. The sun sets earlier than I’m ready for, and I find myself standing at the kitchen window, coffee in hand, watching the season slowly change its mind.
In this military life, that transition from fall to winter always feels familiar. It’s the waiting season—the in-between of where we’ve been and where we’re headed next. It smells like cardboard boxes and cinnamon candles. It sounds like the hum of a space heater and the tape dispenser’s steady rhythm sealing another box marked “FRAGILE.”
PCS season doesn’t always arrive with perfect timing, but it always arrives with purpose.
The Slow Goodbye to Fall
Fall is a season of reflection. The golden hues, the pumpkin-scented air, the long walks where the world seems to exhale. For military families, it’s also a season of inventory—emotional and practical.
You start to ask the quiet questions:
Where will we go next?
What will we carry forward?
Who will we miss most when the map changes again?
I’ve learned over time that PCS prep isn’t just about purging closets and labeling boxes—it’s about honoring what this chapter taught you before you close the door behind it.
Maybe it was the neighbor who became family.
The church that made you feel seen.
The trail where your kids learned to ride their bikes.
Leaving doesn’t erase those moments—it preserves them. They become the gentle echoes that travel with you.
The Arrival of Winter
Winter, in its own quiet way, invites rest.
The pace slows. The to-do lists change. There’s an invitation to breathe between the packing lists and check-ins—to sit with a mug of something warm and recognize how far you’ve come.
In military life, winter often means new beginnings. Orders arrive. Goodbyes are said. Plans unfold.
It’s the season of uncertainty and expectancy—the in-between where faith stretches and gratitude deepens.
I remember one December move where our belongings hadn’t arrived yet. We decorated a cardboard box for a Christmas tree and strung popcorn with the kids while snow fell outside. It wasn’t the prettiest season, but it was one of the most peaceful.
We laughed, ate soup from paper bowls, and learned that home isn’t a house—it’s a posture of the heart.
The PCS Prep List (and a Little Grace Along the Way)
- Check your inventory list early. Schedule your movers, purge what you don’t need, and give yourself permission to let go of more than just things.
- Update your important documents. Medical, school, and housing paperwork—future you will thank you for this one.
- Prepare for the emotional goodbyes. Host one last dinner, take a photo in your favorite spot, or write a thank-you note to the people who held you up.
- Keep your essentials bag packed. Warm clothes, medications, chargers, and one thing that makes you feel grounded (mine’s a candle that smells like vanilla and home).
- Plan for the unexpected. Because the unexpected will come—always. But so will resilience.
Reflection: What the Seasons Teach Us
Every transition teaches us something new about ourselves. Fall whispers that change can be beautiful; winter reminds us that stillness is necessary.
PCS season, with all its chaos and uncertainty, carries both lessons if we listen closely.
So as you stand in your kitchen surrounded by boxes and breath clouds forming outside, take a moment. Light a candle. Breathe deeply.
You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again—with grace, grit, and a heart that knows how to make a home anywhere.
This PCS season, take a moment to share your favorite moving tradition or piece of wisdom that’s carried you through the transition. Tag #MilitarySpouseTeam and remind another family that they’re not navigating the change alone.
Because whether it’s a move across town or across oceans, we’re all learning to find grace in the shift from one season to the next.