It isn’t the big things that are hard to clean up, hard to handle. It’s the small things; the changes we’ve made, decisions we’ve made, all influenced by the big event. Our frame of mind, our plans for the immediate future–all changed in the course of a day. A day that started out promising to confirm our appointment with the moving company, but ended with tears and a to-do list a mile long. Everything that took us months to set into motion needed to be dismantled in a matter of hours.

We aren’t moving to Brazil. For some reason sending Hayden to Afghanistan for a year is okay. He can work 12+ hour days, he can work seven days a week, he can be away from his family in a war zone with all the stresses that brings. That he can do. What they won’t allow him to do is to travel to Brazil, with his family, for a relaxing job.

We have three years worth of supplies in our basement. Not a big deal–we will use all of it over time. We had to tell our renters that they have no house to rent with only two weeks notice. That is a big deal. We had to ask if Jacob still had a slot in daycare starting in December. They said they would make it work. We had to cancel overseas car insurance, put our tchotkes back on the shelves, move my stuff out of boxes and back into my cube at work. The baby doesn’t have winter clothes because we were supposed to be living south of the equator. I stopped stockpiling breastmilk a long time ago because we couldn’t take the frozen gold with us. There are so many repercussions to this, it is hard to put it into words.

But there is hope.

We are a family; we will be living in the same country.  All along, that is what I’ve said I’ve always wanted. I’ve gotten my wish. I love my family.