Home

In the past 8 years I have moved 12 times. I have no military affiliation as some may assume. My moves, my families moves are just life for us. In the first few years of my marriage, I despised these moves as I had grown up living in the same house and the same city my whole life. Now, as I prepare for my 13th move I am content because I have learned over the years that home is wherever my family is. This apiffany struck me a few years ago when I found myself living in a 32 foot motor home with my husband, my 3 year old son and my 16 month old daughter. The motor home was in a city called Hemet and we were there during the summer when temperatures reached at least 110 degrees daily. The motor home was impossible to keep cool during the hottest parts of the day and it was much cooler to sit outside in the shade. I was feeling so sorry for myself one afternoon when the toilet we had backed up and the whole cramped area smelled of rotten eggs. It must have been 120 degrees out that day and I just sat outside and cried while my kids ran around and played as usual. It was then, watching them, that I knew even though I felt homeless, my kids did not. They had their mommy and daddy there with them, a roof over their heads, food to eat and toys to play with. As I watched the joy in them, despite our living conditions, that is when I realized that it does not matter if I live in a mansion or a motor home. Without my family, I would be truly homeless, no matter where I was, but as long as we are together, I am home.