We’re moving abroad.
I’ve always wanted to say that. I can’t believe it’s happening in a few weeks. And while it sounds glamorous, the truth is getting here has not been all that pretty.
A year ago, things at my house were not going well. I got a call at work one day to pick up my youngest son from school because he was sick. When we got home, I was surprised to find my husband there. I was even more surprised to learn he had left his corporate job that day for good.
I was worried about money, stability and the state of our marriage. It didn’t occur to me that day that what he was doing would make us happier in the long run.
He wanted to do something he was passionate about. He had been a career serviceman, and the calling never left him. I was the one who had grown weary of deployments and danger. He was being recruited to go back to flying helicopters, something he loved. It meant taking a job across the country, away from me and the kids for most of the year. It was a leap of faith for all of us.
Now that the bumpy part is over, it’s easier to say that the distance made us stronger. We hashed out the things that had been bothering us and decided to start checking things off of our bucket lists.
That’s how we end up here, planning a move to Croatia. And this is the beginning of my story of life in the jump seat: when a pilot’s life lets go and lets life take off.
P.S. You’ll be hearing more soon about Sarge, my husband. I let him have veto power over this post, and he said he was OK with it. Except I left out one part: He was right. Sarge told me months ago that everything was going to be all right, and I didn’t believe him. But he was right.