The misadventures of a new Reserve spouse - Pt. 1

Today, on the third day of the new year, I'm sitting outside on my back porch sipping coffee. Both I and my son are wearing shorts. Whether South Carolina state employees believe it in true that in that state, I can say without a doubt, it's a good day in Arizona.

Granted, his play is being just a bit hindered by the fact that his shoes keep getting stuck in the rocks that make up our back yard. And forget that I've come outside in part to escape the moving boxes and packing paper that seem to be somehow growing. What matters is that for the first time in several weeks, I'm in a place at which mail is delivered in my name. I'm at peace.

Here is our bedroom in the midst of the move.
All the scattered belongings on the floor were put into
"keep" and "trash" piles before the movers came.

At the beginning of December, I began getting our South Carolina house ready to be rented. To catch up those who didn't know, my hubby officially left the active duty Army this fall and got a job in Phoenix. After a whirlwind weekend in Phoenix, we chose a house in nearby suburb Surprise (yes, that is actually the name of the city). He moved there in October, and soon after, I had nearly all our belongings shipped to our new house. For almost a month, my son and I camped out in the master bedroom, which was the one room in the house in which there was furniture. Soon, I'd moved some of that furniture down too, leaving me sleeping on a mattress on the floor, and he sleeping in a sleeping bag. I'd rushed it in anticipation of the renters who wanted to move in mid-month. Renters who, days before I planned for them to move in, decided that they had changed their minds.

Since the moving dates had already been set, I saw no reason to change them. Then the real adventure began. I, the boy and the dog moved from our one room at our house to one room in a friend's house. I thank God for her, because I don't know anyone else who would take on two people and a dog while waiting for her husband to return from a deployment.

Despite the comfort of having a place to live for the next few weeks, I still had a few qualms. The house had not yet been rented. I had no job prospects in Arizona. The house needed major cleaning, holes needed to be filled and marks on the walls needed to be touched up with paint. And, if I had not already grasped the reality that the Army safety net I'd learned to depend on was now gone, seeing money for the mortgage come out of our own pockets did the trick.

Needless to say, I had my work cut out for me. And then, my sister moved into the room with us.

To be continued ...

Crystal Clear: I'm moving on

For the first time in six years, where I live -- and how we pay for it -- won't be taken care of by the Army. And when I make a phone call about health insurance, child care or, anything really, the person on the other line won't care about my sponsor's Social Security number. Because come this fall, I will no longer be a dependent; I'll just be a civilian.


And so will my husband.

While he will be going into the Reserves, I would be lying if I said that leaving the "traditional" Army family doesn't give me pause. There's just something about the security the military brings. For one; I've never had my own health insurance. And two, the relationships I've made since my husband started his career are invaluable. I can probably count on one hand my close friends who have no military affiliation whatsoever.



It's hard to imagine not heading to the Commissary or the Exchange to do my shopping. And what will my social calendar look like without the regular "Hail and farewell" dinners, Family Readiness Group meetings and military balls? And of course, many of my friends will go on to new duty stations in different cities, states, or even countries, while we forge ahead in this new civilian life.

While I am not saying goodbye completely -- as an Army civilian, I know I am still part of the Army family and the Fort Jackson community -- it still won't be the same.

When I married into the Army in February 2005, I didn't know what I was getting into. I took my first flight just months before on a small prop-plane that flew me into Fort Sill, Okla., where my husband was attending his officer basic course.

And while most people think our wedding date was chosen to center around Valentine's Day, the truth is a lot less romantic -- we chose a date that gave him two weeks to help plan the wedding and two weeks to pack for his new duty station in Germany where I joined him three months later.

Truth be told, I wasn't too keen on the military lifestyle at first. I found out a year or so later that just days into landing in Germany, I'd somehow already offended a bunch of people I'd never met, most likely based on someone not understanding my unusual sense of humor. That was the first of many misunderstandings I had, most of which I can now look back on and laugh.

Despite those missteps, I enjoyed being an Army spouse. I dove in headfirst, being assigned the task of FRG co-leader before I even really knew what the FRG was. I joined the spouses' club, and was even on the board before we headed back to the states. I made a number of friends, many with whom I am still in contact today. Friends that, during our husbands' deployments, knew when to get me out of the house and when I just needed to be left alone. For every Soldier who knew me as "Lt. Brown's wife," there was a spouse who knew him as "Crystal Brown's husband."

When we left that first duty station three years ago, in addition to German wine, I brought home some lifelong friendships and some lessons learned. But, unlike the wine, those lessons will stick with me. And, hopefully, so will the friendships.

So in a month or so, when my Soldier officially becomes Mr. Brown, I will be losing a big part of something that has been a major part of my adult life. And frankly, it's scary. But I know that having been a part of this family is something I will never forget, and something that has made me and my family stronger.