It had been a while since I’d made it back home to Iowa. The 40-degree temperatures had me dreaming of an 80-degree November and fans instead of fireplaces. It’s only recently come to my attention that Georgia has truly become home.
Of course, when I’m in Georgia I miss my family and old friends. I miss small-town gossip and having everyone you bump into at the town’s only grocery store know your name and all of your personal business. Despite that, Hinesville is home to me now.
That’s where I live my life — where I eat and sleep and learn and worship, where my best friends live.
As a military spouse, that kind of attachment is a little scary. We could serve all our years at Fort Stewart or we could be asked to move in the next few weeks. When your house still feels like a hotel and you have a few semi-friends, who are really more like acquaintances, that’s OK. But when you’ve truly made your home somewhere, the idea of moving isn’t a pleasant one.
Even while my husband and I dream up ideas of where we’d like to go to grad school once he’s finished his military term, I feel like I’ve really put down roots in the South, and going more than a few miles away is going to cause some pain.
Over the holidays, I caught myself correcting my little brother because he told my mom “yeah” instead of “yes, ma’am.” That’s when you know they’ve got you.
Maybe someday it will be time to move on, and maybe someday my husband will convince me that the local weather isn’t the best in existence (although for now, I’m convinced it is).
But at this point, I’m just going to keep soaking up the sun and the Southern hospitality for as long as I can. After sitting in my childhood home, feeling homesick for my place in Hinesville, I realized that really means something.