Home is where the Navy sends you

For months my mom has asked, nudged, requested pictures of where we live. “For all I know you could live in a box” she says, to which I laughed and said “mom, we do live in a box.”

When you move from this …


Charm, character, some place where you want to put down roots and dig in and stay.

To this …


“the hood,” “the cell block,” “the projects,” these are all various references I’ve heard since moving here to our government housing.


From over 3000 square feet, space, breathing room, privacy.

To 1800 square feet and living the cozy life.


I will have to admit that I have been less than enthusiastic about doing more than maybe put up a few pictures. Miniblinds? Ick. I hate those things – dust collectors as one of my friends calls them. I’ve taken them down and wrapped them up in previous houses and made window treatments (or my mom has made window treatments). Here though – I just look at the blinds, shrug my shoulders and think, “whatever.”

The “yard” and front flowerbed have gone ignored for months and it seems to have unsettled my family more than just a little. When we lived in Maryland I went through months of training to become a Master Gardener. I put my knowledge to work and dug up our backyard and landscaped it – and it was a HUGE backyard. I pulled out everything from the front and relandscaped that too. When we moved to Virginia I started all over although thankfully this yard was teeny, tiny compared to Maryland. I love looking at plants, would rather spend weeks in the yard doing hard labor than spend an hour cleaning in the house. But here, when the family has asked – so what are you planning to plant? I’ve replied “nothing.” Jeff even went so far as to say I was freaking him out a bit “but you’ve always planted things, every place we’ve moved.” So true. I’ve left my trail from Rhode Island, to Virginia, to Maryland, to Virginia, to North Carolina, to Maryland and back to Virginia again. I’ve left behind gorgeous rosemary, lavender that makes me smile just by touching the leaves and smelling the lingering scent. The lambs ears that our boys loved to sit in when they were toddlers just to feel the softness of the leaves. The mint beds that our first faithful canine used to love to lay in (and I didn’t mind it either since it made her smell nice). The cosmos and zinnias that my daughter and I would plant and she named them the “happy flowers.”

But here, well I’ve had no vision. No motivation. Perhaps though, it’s the feeling of spring in the air, but I’m starting to get that itch to get out there and plant a few things. Wrenn was even able to sway me to stop by a garden store and buy some plants for our front bed. She planted them all and did a fine job too. Guess all those hours and hours she spent with me in the yard has paid off. And pulling up in front of our box, with plants there to greet me has made a difference … the box now has started to feel more like home.

Maybe home is not where the Navy sends you but where you dig in and plant some roots. I’m off to the plant store … till next time, sayonara.