D’lijha Jones
Okinawa, Japan
Being a military child is a blessing and a curse. There is nothing comparable to walking the beaches of Japan, seeing the lights of Las Vegas, enduring the snow of Alaska, or maneuvering the hills of Germany. No one else can say they’ve done what I’ve done, seen what I’ve seen, lived where I’ve lived. I live the life of a gypsy while living in houses of well established residents. I’m a tourist who never stops touring, a sightseer with infinite sights, and an explorer, who even if they tried, can never stop exploring.
On top of this, I’m the cousin they can’t see, the friend that stopped showing up, and the kid that once was. It’s hard building relationships and walking away from them with no choice. It’s hard telling someone you’ve learned to love that your relationship ends when the top of the hour glass is empty. It’s hard listening to others as they explain to you you’re the luckiest person in the world just because you get to see it. It’s hard, but I genuinely can’t tell you if I’d have it any other way.
I’m blessed, I’m cursed, I’m cultured, I’m ignorant, I’m someone who wishes they can stay in one place and keep meaningful relationships and have a sense of hearth or some acceptance or any feeling of a home, yet I’m an independent dependent on the search to find themselves. I’m a gypsy.