What I Hope They Remember
Like 99.9% of military families, we live far (very far, in fact) away from our extended family.
When we got orders last summer, my mom even remarked, “I feel like you’re moving half a world away.” Truthfully, it does feel like that, especially during the summer. In the summer, our schedules aren’t as busy, our days are less rigid, and it’s then that I find myself wishing we lived closer to family. Well, then and those two days in March when I’m throwing two birthday parties back to back.
(Hint: if at all possible, have your kids in different months of the year).
To combat those feelings and to make sure our kids stay connected to their extended family, my husband and I make a huge effort to visit home each summer.
Sometimes it’s all four of us, but usually it’s the three of us. The almost-cross-country trips have taken many forms, but my favorite are our train trips. We made our first one with extended family when my youngest was 2, and I’ve been hooked ever since.
Over the years, it’s turned into a summer tradition, one which we all look forward to. While I sincerely hope they don’t remember the one time I cried all the tears when the lounge car ran out of food and drink with eight hours left in our trip, and I was toting a 45-pound 3-year-old on my hip, I do hope they remember all the rest.
I hope they remember the people.
From train conductors to station attendants to fellow passengers, we have met some of the best America has to offer.
The cabin attendant who spoiled my daughter rotten with candy and coloring pages and shared her secret stash of juice boxes? She cried when my daughter gave her a handmade bracelet because she didn’t get any birthday presents that year. It turns out she was working double shifts to help pay for her mother’s hospital bills.
The high school kid next to me two years ago? He was visiting colleges by himself. His parents immigrated here from India and were saving money for their citizenship tests so they didn’t have any extra money. He worked two jobs the summer before to save up his train fare and other expenses. He let my kids play on his iPhone and chatted with me about the military, then thanked me for being a military spouse. For real.
I hope they remember the scenery.
To quote my son, “Mom, nobody gets excited about random mountain ranges like you do.” Fine, that’s a fair statement. But for an hour a day, I make them put down their phones and books and just look out the window. We sit in the glass-top train car and point out all the things we’ve never seen before.
This year, it was the fields of active oil derricks in northern California. One time it was the banks of the Mississippi River. And our very favorite, the herd of charging bison we once saw in North Dakota. It looked like the grass was covered with a moving blanket, there were so many of them. My kids have seen two-thirds of our country by rail, and it’s pretty darn amazing.
I hope they remember to stay connected.
It can be very easy to become consumed with the military lifestyle. Waking up each morning at 6:30 a.m. to a cannon going off down the street can do that to you. All they know are uniforms, ceremonies, hosting parties, and helicopters taking off and landing over their house.
There’s another world they’re a part of that isn’t military, though. Their extended family are part of who they are, too, and we make it a priority to keep them in touch with it. Each summer they see their cousins, their second cousins, their grandparents, and great-grandparents.
And they get to see us with them, too. I hear them say things like, “You really look like Aunt Nan, Mom.” Or, “So that’s where Dad gets it from!”
The military will shape a good deal of the people they will become, but we want to make sure their family does, too. If it means we go without some new furniture or other vacations to make that happen, so be it.
I hope they remember their time with me.
It isn’t often that my kids get me alone, with no distractions. It seems I’m always cooking, folding laundry, running to a meeting or the commissary…something.
For 18-48 hours on these trips, it’s just them and me. I get to be silly. I get to binge watch Big Brother with my daughter (it’s our guilty summer pleasure). I get to play marathon sessions of Skip Bo and Solitaire with them. We stay up late. We eat an early breakfast when the dining room opens, then snuggle back to sleep until lunch.
And we laugh. A lot.
What will I remember, you ask? I’ll remember to thank them for making all of these wonderful memories with me, even if it means they beat me at Skip Bo.
