One of the quiet gifts of this life is how often neighbors become more than acquaintances. They become the people your children run to after school, the ones who walk into your kitchen without knocking, the ones who slip into your days until you cannot imagine living without them. In a world where change is constant, neighbors have so often been the steadying presence that made each new duty station feel like home.

When I was growing up as an Air Force child, I believed I knew what military life was all about…So when I became a spouse, I expected it to feel familiar, almost automatic.

But here is what no one tells you: being a military spouse is its own kind of education—and you do not truly learn it until you are living in the middle of it.

There are seasons in this life when you do not pack a single box, yet you still feel as though you are starting over. The movers never came, the walls never changed, but suddenly all your people are gone—sent on their next adventure while you remain behind. The neighborhood grows quiet, the familiar faces vanish from school pick-up lines, and gatherings that once filled your calendar are no longer yours to attend. It is a different kind of ache, one that whispers: everyone else is moving forward, and you are standing still.