I love those first few weeks when I PCS to a new place. Undaunted by a lack of household goods or limited leave, I load my family up every morning to go out exploring our new home. Driving around the installation aimlessly but full of intention.

We speculate on which park we will enjoy walking to the most or which of a town’s kitschy diners we will frequent on Sundays after church. Taking it all in. Learning the main roads at first, the way to the commissary, the PX, then gradually picking up on the backways and roundabout shortcuts. By the time your stay is halfway up, you know how to avoid gate traffic and where to go to meet your friends for coffee or lunch. Though no matter how well you have become acquainted with it, the town you leave is seldom the same town when your moving truck arrived. The place you have all your socials closes down and is replaced by another restaurant, new boutiques open on Main Street. Of course, just before you leave, you begin discovering fascinating places and activities that have been there all along, but you never knew.

Our marriages are similar.