Hi. I’m new here. Having moved over 30 times in my 30-something years, I’ve said those words a lot. No, I am not an army brat or an army wife, but I am used to boxes, to packing and unpacking my life. After a while, I stopped decorating my spaces. I learned to have fun without getting too attached to anyone or anything. I began to accept that I would always be lost somewhere. Then I found my anchor. On a cold winter’s eve at a party that I wasn’t technically invited to. He was sitting across the room and I was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge to get to know him. I sat beside him every chance I got; I talked with him, I drank with him, I danced with him. And when we left a coffee shop in the wee hours of the morning, I folded my hand into his and sealed our fate.
Seven years, three countries, and two kids later, I can still feel the power of that first touch.