As I drive around New Jersey (which is anti-left-turn, by the way), I can't help but think of the differences in the places I've lived. First, there was Florida - my first experience with gridded streets. I couldn't figure it out for the life of me...I think I was too used to the winding dead-ends of Massachusetts to really appreciate the simplicity of the grid. Then, there was Texas - a lot of dirt roads and tumbleweeds. Then England, with it's 10-foot hedges on either side of a 1.5-lane road. Then back to Massachusetts again...
Panama City, FL wasn't anything to call home about; it was dirty and industrial. However, once we moved onto the AF base, what I remember most is the palm trees, white sand beaches and aquamarine water. I remember trying to crab-fish, letting the dogs run into the water on the base beach, going to the clubs just to realize that we weren't really clubbers, and how our front yard was made up of white sand and beach weeds. I hated that place for the first 4 months, but then I just loved it. Liking your house and neighborhood really makes all the difference, doesn't it?
Next up was Texas. God, how I hated that place. Everything about it sucked - the "city," the heat, the culture, the people, the accent (*shudder*)...I tried to embrace it, but the only saving grace was the sorority alumna group. And I didn't even bother staying in contact with any of them, so I guess that says something. Moving swiftly along....
England. I loved England. Correction: Love England. The people were warm and wonderful, despite the reputation the English have. The little sandwich shop, Webb's, in "downtown" Mildenhall; the "Bits and Bobs" stores; the afternoon teas; the real farmer's market every Friday. I felt at home there from the minute I stepped off the plane. London was crowded but fun, and you could go anywhere from there. Ireland, Scotland, Spain...I miss it. But truly, the best thing was the rural lifestyle. Tractors and lorries shared the tiny roads; driving on the left-hand side as slowly or quickly as you wanted (they were going to pass you anyway); walking everywhere. It was a dream I didn't even know I had come true. More often than not I think of Mildenhall, and it's always with a smile. The friends I made out there - the AF wives, the sorority sisters, everyone - are ones I'll never forget and love to think about and talk to. Amazing, amazing, amazing.
Then, we moved back home, to Chelmsford. It, too, was a place I loved. Aside from having quite possibly the best neighbors known to mankind, we were close to family. My kids adore their relatives and are best friends with their cousins. I was familiar with the streets, restaurants, hair salons, highways, traffic patterns, etc etc etc. It was comfortable. I love my house (still hasn't sold....), and worked really hard on making it a home. My dogs enjoyed the backyard, and the kids enjoyed riding their bikes there. The only thing that was missing was the white picket fence (which didn't really go with the neighborhood, so I put up a wooden fence around the backyard instead).
In all these places (with the exception of Texas, which I think should melt into Mexico and therefore no longer be part of this country), I remember the good. There was plenty of not-so-good, but I really have to stretch to remember the bad times. I'm sure it'll be the same with this new adventure. New Jersey isn't great right now, but in a couple years, this blip in time will show me the good - such as how Chris loves swimming in the hotel pool "at night" with Sean, or how Evelyn screams "Daddy!" in unabandoned glee when Sean walks in the door after work. Or the fireflies I saw last night while walking the dogs. Or the nice lady with two small kids across the hall. Or...or...or...the possibilities for good memories are endless, and I'm thrilled that I now have the experience to realize that. It makes getting through even the toughest of times easier to bear, especially when the light at the end of the tunnel is, er, New Jersey.
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