He unscrewed his Iowa Hawkeye decorative plate and placed it on the garage shelf along with the other odds and ends that were stored in the backseat. His NRA medallion won't come off the back window, but thats ok, and he took a razor blade to the blue and white "FORT BRAGG" stickers on the front windshield. It's true. It's happening.
He vacuumed out the whole interior, armoralled the dashboard, and wiped down all the windows. Then he got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the driveway. He was headed to Augusta, Georgia to sell it. I stood in the driveway with the kids as we waved good-bye to Daddy (he would be back later that night) when it hit me. This was the first of our good-byes on our journey to Japan, but not our last. Maybe it was PMS, maybe it was stress, or maybe it's just me, but my eyes welled up as I watched the truck drive away for the last time. The only thing that ran through my mind was how much, much worse it is going to be to say good-bye to friends and family.
We sold our truck. Our brand new truck that we bought a little more than a year ago. I loved that truck. I never ever in a million years thought I would say I loved a pick-up truck, or yearn to drive one, but I do/did love this one. But now our navy blue, super-crew cab, Ford F150 is gone. Another family will use and enjoy it. Selling our vehicles is a necessary evil. We can't take them with us due to several factors.
So here we are. The beginning of our good-byes. Next will come the good-byes to our life in Fort Bragg. Our house, our friends, our neighbors. Then will be the good-byes to our life long friends near and far, and finally to our families in our hometowns.
With the joy and anticipation of what is to come, is a twinge of sadness. Moving is always hard but something military families have come to accept, and even look forward to doing. Like I said to my mom right before my husband left for his last deployment, Its always harder to be the one doing the leaving, than to be the one left behind.
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