The house that built me

So this week I’m blogging while watching Sister Wives. I really have an obsession for TLC’s reality programming.

On the teaser preview for next week, the teenage Brown kids road trip back to Utah and visit the large home in which they were raised. They wander through the house, and the clips show some of the kids getting emotional. Being a military brat, I don’t have an attachment to a particular house. To me, a home has been where my parents made it. A home isn’t a physical house; it’s what’s inside of it. I associate memories of my childhood with the occasion and not with the location.

My mother grew up in one house. My grandparents bought it when she was four and raised all seven of their children in it. They still live there. My dad is an Air Force brat turned Air Force officer. He moved around every few years until my family moved to PA ten years ago. Mac is a Navy brat, but his dad’s assignments allowed his parents to stay in the same house in Northern Virginia (his dad worked at the Pentagon and in Norfolk). We have a mish-mash of military living.

As Mac and I begin our life together, we’re starting in a place hundreds of miles from our parents. We have the great (mis)fortune of living with Mac’s older brother, Joey, so we are with family. Our next few years will be determined by the Army, but we knew that going into our marriage. Depending on Mac’s career choice, any children we have will grow up as Army brats. I hope that they too realize home is where the heart is.

Now My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding is on. Curses.

Update: The newest episode of American Gypsies did not disappoint. Srsly y’all, watch it.