What is home for an army brat?
In yet another interesting conversation with my best friend, we were just casually talking about how our life has been through the years. We’ve known each other for almost two decades, and gone through various stages of life together - from school to college to jobs, from cycling around the city to road-tripping together - we’ve done it all. We’re both army brats, so we’ve lived a similar life - moved to a new place every few years, made new friends, left old ones behind, built a new life all over again, got comfortable, moved again - repeat! Every time we’d move, we’d pack our entire life, things that got us comfort - our corner table, table lamp, bookshelf or just a gift from a friend we made at school. Our temporary ‘home’ would be safely packed in a few trunks, those trunks would carry our home and sometimes also turn into makeshift furniture, with numbers on them ready to be set up in a whole new way in a different city, in a different ‘home’. We’d sometimes move from a big city to a smaller one or the other way round, from north to south or east to west, hills to plains or change houses within the city. The only thing that remained constant was us seeking a ‘home’ everywhere we went.
We didn’t know what ‘home’ meant to us, we never really thought about it then. Was it the fact that we’d feel butterflies after learning about the new place we’d be moving to or was it that pit we felt in our stomach? What made the butterflies & the pit even more notable? The fact that we were moving to a new home or the one that meant leaving our last home behind? I guess we’ll never know.
Home. We do know what it means to us now, we do know where to find it! :)
#home #thelabyrinthlog #armykids #indianarmy #armybrats
