I stood in my kitchen leaning back against the counter. I could feel the draft from the window above the sink hitting my back. It only added to my chills; I was in a solemn mood as it was. Halfway through my junior year of high school, I had just gotten home from school after a disastrous midterm exam and now this. Dad had beaten us home and told us he wanted to have a family meeting that night. He said there was something important to tell us. I had a feeling it would be bad. Would it be about the move?A family meeting meant I would have just enough time after leaving Wednesday night youth group to grab something to eat at Wendy's with my growing circle of friends before racing home. The summer before, three of us had started carpooling up to First Baptist Church of Leesburg. Now our group of friends was up to about a dozen people that would regularly meet at church and eat at Wendy's afterward.I knew a move was coming. Our three year term in Albany, GA would be over in the summer; that meant we would pack up all of our most important belongings, leave some behind, and go live somewhere else. This system was so ingrained in me that I had developed what I call the "three year itch". Every three years I subconsciously get ready to pack up, move out and leave. The only thing that didn't change was the inevitability of change; the Marine Corps is so efficient and precise, you could set your watch to it.Driving home from church I gathered my thoughts: A move was inevitable. Maybe Dad could extend for a year and let me graduate in Albany. No, that wouldn't happen. Maybe something drastic would happen, like if Dad got injured - maybe then we wouldn't move. What a horrible person I am! What kind of daughter am I that wants her Dad to get hurt so she can graduate? Ok, so we're moving; the only reason for our family meeting is to answer the question of where. I guess because the military paid for my dad to go to graduate school when we were in California, he is required to serve a 'payback tour' which usually are overseas. That could mean anywhere.This move would be especially bitter. It meant leaving my graduating class and leaving Gabe. My boyfriend of four months started coming to youth group with me shortly after we started dating. He was with me as I drove home. I know that he cared for me as much as a green high school love could allow. He said he wanted to be there with me when I found out. Neither of us had any idea what that would mean.The tension built in my gut as I walked through my back door. I needed coffee. I poured myself a cup as my family gathered together in the living room for evening prayers. Distraction would help numb the impending agony. I would rather be numb than in pain. I was nervous. I stared around the room. Stains in the carpet jumped out to my attention. They would have to be steamed out before the move. Our family stray, Lulu, walked into the room. How will a cat do on an airplane?Dad was impossible to read. I couldn't...
