"Will You Be My Neighbor?"

There is nothing quite like moving to a Northern Tier location in the middle of winter.  It was dark, cold, and lonely.  I remember looking outside and wondering if there were actually people living in the houses that were connected to and surrounding our own.  During the long daytime hours while my engineer was at work, I would clean, wander the house, read, and stare out the window at the vast expanse of white.  Obviously, I was having the best time of my life!  All the change that had happened in our lives, paired with the lack of sun, was sending me spiraling into a funk.  In the evening (3:30 in the afternoon) lights would pierce the darkness, taunting me that there really were people who lived in those houses.  But that young spouse was too chicken to walk up and introduce herself.  That winter was going to be a very lonely time.

Looking out the window, I would see people run out, start their cars and scuttle back inside. Children would come home from school.  Service members would return for lunch and dinner.  Seeing my engineer at lunch time was the highlight of my day.  Occasionally I would see a spouse load up in the car and disappear somewhere.  After a while, getting sick of being indoors, I would bundle up and shovel the walk and driveway.  I did this with hopes that another spouse would "come out and play."  However, that winter, I was on my own for that one.  

Now, I bake a batch of cookies, prepare a few plates, and knock on doors.  Our move ALWAYS lands us in the middle of winter.  I have learned that, if it is a cold place, I need to just bundle up and go searching.  People hibernate during the winter and resurface in the spring.  In Europe, I fell into a great group of ladies who would meet up for coffee, crafts, and social connection.  By then, I was a bit more aggressive in my hunt for relationships than I was in the beginning.  Really, when it came to meeting people, I was very shy.  Pair that shyness with a new culture and blistering cold, you have a very uncomfortable young woman.

During this time, my engineer was surrounded by other people.  He would occasionally go out to lunch with the guys.  Over dinner, he would tell me about his day.  Listening intently, and filled with questions about these people in the outside world, I would start to live vicariously through him.  When he finished his workday, all he wanted was to come home and have a quiet evening with me.  All the while, all I wanted was to go out and meet people.  At this point, I really didn't care who I met...as long as it was someone new.  He soon saw that I was painfully lonely.  He would ask if I had met the neighbors yet.  "No"  Well, why not? "I never know when they are home." Why don't you just knock on the door?? "-silence-" That poor guy had a bloody typical young spouse on his hands!  His frustration with me would grow(and would resurface again with each move)during the remaining months of winter (4 months remaining at that point).  

Part of me seriously wishes that the older me was there to drop kick that young woman's butt out the door into the snow...and toss a plate of cookies after her.  The prison that I had created for myself was ludicrous.  On the outside, most people see me as confident and outgoing.  However, on the inside is a very private, at times shy, person.  I LOVE being with people.  But I do not enjoy meeting people.  I wouldn't learn to go against my own grain until we were sent to The Orient.  Trust me when I say this, my outgoing self is nurture, not nature.  I guess you can say that young woman, back in that house in the middle of snow and freezing temperatures, was a babe who had to learn to walk.  I think I waited about a year until I really reached out to form friendships.  This makes me shake my head when I think about how quickly I jump in now.  

When I meet young spouses who seem a bit gun shy now, my heart goes out to them.  I can see myself in their awkward attempts to try to fit in.  Every military spouse knows what I am talking about.  They are the ones who look forlorn when they have to attend squadron funk-tions (yes, that is what I call them), clinging to their airmen's arms.  They are normally pulled, kicking and screaming, to social gatherings at other spouses' homes.  While I don't really like to attend either, I have always found that there ends up being something of entertainment value to come out of those things.  There is just a serious look of loss and alienation in their faces.  Everything is so new and foreign to them, and they haven't learned to "go with the flow" or to just dive in yet.  Many of them grow into women who have decided that they hate the military and want nothing to do with it...even though it is their husbands' careers.  It is only by the grace of God that I didn't grow into one of the bitter women (even though I do have my moments....but who doesn't?)

To this day, I know, without any doubt, that I had to go through that lonely time.  I had to survive something that I never wanted to deal with ever again.  There have been many times when I have been tempted to slip back into that mould after a move.  Then that miserable young spouse, who desperately wanted someone to come out and play, comes to mind.  Instead of staring out the window, begging for others to come out, I bake a batch of cookies, knock on doors....and see if they will be my neighbor.