When I was a baby my dad left for months at a time. I spent a lot of time with my mom counting down the days until my dad came home again. I was 7 years old when we left San Diego. My home, my friends, the house I grew up in, my school, and most importantly my family. I did not see them for another year or so until I visited the States. We were living in Spain at the time. I felt alone, but I knew that I could not let missing my family get me down. I made new friends and made good grades. I hoped that our next move would be back to the States, but no, it was not. Our next PCS took us to Bahrain. I tried to make friends and I succeeded. I made my very first Bahrain friend on the plane coming here. Another one of my friends I met on my birthday. I don’t like moving but sometimes moving is good. I try to reflect on the positive things.