Muse and Mischief

I was an Army brat growing up. My dad got his commission when I was a baby so for the longest time military life was all I knew. I had no concept of roots in the sense of putting any down. I moved three times in the first six years of my life and when you’re young like that you’re not really building strong long term memories yet. 

But that all changed after I finished 1^st grade. My family PCS’d from San Antonio to a tiny Army base in New Mexico that was practically in the middle of nowhere. It was at least 45 minutes to the nearest town. Las Cruces lay over the mountain range and El Paso was an hour away. 

I think out of all of the places I ever lived, that duty station was the closest to small town living I ever got. It was a tiny base with an elementary and middle school, small clinic, and commissary. There was enough entertainment to keep adults and kids occupied, but the best escape from the desert summers was the swimming pools at the officer’s club and the NCO club. The best part was that since we were at the base of a mountain range we got all four seasons with a handful of snow days. The fall was my favorite season with the leaves falling and the tumbleweeds rolling through. 

I can definitely say that my four years there were formative. My summers there had that certain freedom that Gen X and Elder Millennials think wistfully about and shocks younger generations. Dry summer afternoons were usually spent at the pool or playing baseball in someone’s backyard. 

The base was small and contained enough that my parents wouldn’t bat an eye if I was gone all day and only returned home when the streetlights came on. Of all the things I learned from living there I would say that the most impactful was the one about letting go. 

I was six when we moved there and ten when my Dad got orders to move to Hawaii. I had so many friends that I grew up with over that time. My parents had more friends there than they had at any other duty station since. Leaving was hard, really hard. I had not really experienced a loss like that before in my life and I think it shaped how I coped with major changes since then. 

I think that is why a lot of my stories deal in some way with either loss or rediscovering something that was lost. Maybe in some way I am searching for something I can’t get back to. I think that emotion plays a strong role in creating the general mood of my novella When the Candles Burn. 

A lot of the main character Corrie’s memories of her family were based on the years we spent in New Mexico. That sense of longing whether it is for a physical home or the emotional one I had with my parents is something that I think is universal. At some point we will all experience some sense of loss like that. 

I still dream about that base in New Mexico sometimes and they’re usually very pleasant and comforting. I still remember all of the streets in my neighborhood and the bike paths I took to school or the O-Club pool. It’s that yearning for those memories that continues to shape me in my journey. It is something I try to create in my stories because sometimes they can help us recapture those feelings of homes we cannot return to. 

What are some moments or places in your life that continue to shape you?