Five years and Six-hundred, fifty miles apart

My contract had ended. I was now the dependent and wife of an active duty member. That meant I was going where he was going. Kicking and screaming. Not really. This new duty station gave me more time to pour into my writing. Sometimes the feelings of isolation were harder to cope with than at other times. I recall getting here and expecting something like what I had left. And why shouldn't I have? We were buying our first home. Were not people supposed to flock to us and welcome us with open arms? I began to notice the lack of friendships I was able to maintain. Was I the nagging wife that was purposely excluded and harped about? Yep. It became clear that my brother and his wife were the connecting point of most relationships I was included in by default. Without them, it wasn't as easy to impress anyone. No one knew how important my brother and his wife were to me. No one shared the same excitement as me about going over to their house for brunch or how important hanging out with my nephew was. Connections for me weren't made as easily here. Not sure if that had to do with regional differences in politics or religion or what ever else; I just never was able to clique well or as easily with people here as I did there.