Missing Autumn…..

The tropical island of Guam has a lot to offer outdoorsy families like mine.

Sparkling blue waters, jungles full of waterfalls, and beach hikes abound.

But this time of year, I crave the cozy comforts of the Midwest, where I grew up.

This time of year, the siren song of the Pacific Ocean dims a bit, and I long to be able to open my bedroom window, and let the chorus of crickets and cicadas slip in. 

This is our second fall/winter here on Guam, and the second year that we’ve been unable to return to the Midwest for Halloween or Christmas (or both).

At previous duty stations, we vacationed home for a 2- or 3-week antidote to the brief and lukewarm winters we experienced.

I thought that had prepared me for the 2 year stint on our OCONUS orders. 

But it’s hitting harder this year than it ever has before. 

I suppose it’s a sort of homesickness, really. 

Guam is a beautiful place, and we have wonderful friends and traditions here.

But it’s not our forever home, and it’s hard to feel “cozy” when the outside temp rarely dips below 85 degrees, no matter what month it is. 

Soup season? It’s a thing of the past.

Cheerful fires crackling in the fireplace? Not even close.

Slipping on a soft sweater to enjoy a crisp autumn stroll? Not unless you want to sweat through your cashmere. 

On Guam, we celebrate the shift from wet season to dry season. 

We carve pineapples instead of pumpkins (which are expensive and rot quickly in the heat and humidity). We spend holidays at the beach, in the same glorious sunshine that we experience year-round.

Thanksgiving is greeted with the same waterslides and sunburns as the fourth of July. 

Forgive me, if I sound ungrateful.

I know better than most that the grass seems greener on the other side.

I’m well aware that our first true winter in over a decade will realistically be met with shivers and nostalgic talk of our island holidays.

The days when our toes were never frozen, and we never had to scrape our windshields free of ice.

But here and now, with the bulk of the holiday season looming and not an autumn leaf in sight, I feel a bit deflated.

For the last few weeks, I’ve lit the spooky season candles, and I’ve chosen ambiance videos with vibrant autumn colors and crackling campfires.

I’ve trailed fingers down the cozy flannel hanging in the back of my closet, and I’ve eyed the favorite pair of cowboy boots that I refused to leave behind when we PCS’d from Mississippi.

I haven’t worn either of them, here. Not even once. 

I miss autumn, and my favorite autumn things.

I miss home. 

I miss setting the Halloween décor up in the yard with my dad, a yearly tradition that includes animatronics he designed and built himself.

I miss walks along the nature trail through the colorful forest with my mom.

I miss spending a week at a cabin in the Smoky Mountains with my kids every December. 

Autumn is a season of change, a sort of slowing down as all that I used to know transitions to the sluggish pace of winter.

Here on Guam, that pace presides year-round.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it’s nice to stop and smell the hibiscus.

Sometimes the crystal sea is the answer to all my anxious thoughts, and the cure for all my ailments. 

When the holidays arrive, however, I long for the chilly days and nights that fill my dreams with an amber glow, nothing less than nostalgia on steroids. 

Until our feet touch midwestern soil again next summer, I strive to remind myself of two important things. 

1. Nothing lasts forever 
2. Nothing lasts forever

It’s true of the wonderful things in life, and also true of those that are less than ideal.

Once we leave Guam, we may never return. It probably won’t be long before I close my eyes during an overcast November day, and pretend that my toes are buried in warm sand. 

I suppose the moral of the story is to appreciate what you have.

Because when you’re part of a military family, what you have is always changing. That doesn’t mean that you won’t miss what you used to have, or question what may be coming in the future.

It simply means to give yourself grace.

Acknowledge your feelings, and your longings. But don’t lose sight of what’s in front of you right now, either. 

Some of us will be far from home this holiday season. Perhaps on the other side of the world.

Some of us will miss traditions that we hold close to our hearts.

Some of us will also weather the storm of an absent spouse, away from home during the holidays to support the mission. 

No matter what (or who) you find yourself missing this season, do me a favor. Take a deep breath, and give yourself some grace.

 Nothing lasts forever. 

*For more from Kaci, Check out her MM Author page.