For a military child, that is a vastly different answer than many other children will ever be able to know.
Yes, it is a difficult life. There is a lot of loss.
But, there are so many small, brilliant joys, that bring beauty out of the seeming chaos of that life.
Here is some of all of it.
I am from packed up rooms
I am from different yards with
crabby old neighbors
mean old dogs barking everywhere, as my brother and I played in our tiny yard.
The trampoline was our favorite.
I am from a different neighborhood every 2 years,
with different ‘‘Neighborly’’ welcomes, including
dry cookies and phone numbers.
I am from Eleanor and Darryl slipping snickers bars
through the fence, acting as
My adoptive Grandparents,
and Melissa holding me close as I wept for My daddy.
I am from “we’ll get through this. Daddy will come home. He won’t stay in Iraq, he will come home.”
I am from blueberry muffins as a deployment coping regular, and
macaroni and cheese and
I am from Latkes and Dumplings,
and eggs with cheesy biscuits.
I am from the one journal that has never touched the inside of a packed up box, but was never finished, for they carry into another journal, instead of the last page.
I am from letters from friends I will never see again, who I feel guilty thinking about.
I am from learning how to say goodbye so I can say hello again.
I am from a ragged old doll teaching me how to love
I am from several sketch books, that are better than growth charts
I am from thousands of songs
I am from one ragged old dog,
hugged me harder than I ever hugged him,
who is losing his stuffing
I am from one Simon and Garfunkel song that daddy rocked me to sleep with
I am from a legacy of houses I will never forget, and make sure the next generation knows as well