I had been counting down the days until we left Spain and returned to the States for Aleksei’s next assignment. But as our departure date approached, I had some surprisingly mixed emotions.
Don’t get me wrong — I was thrilled at the prospect of being back in Washington, being able to work from the office again, being around friends and much closer to family. Still, as I was packing, I realized that I had finally started to get my stride in Rota. I had made some great friends, found a hobby in horseback riding, and had even begun to adapt to my less-than-conventional work hours dealing with an employer six time zones away. Rota had started to feel familiar, and life was beginning to feel normal. Then it was time to move.
I’d heard that PCS’ing is crazy, hectic, stressful, and exhausting, but I didn’t fully “get it” until it happened to me. This move is all of those adjectives — and more. As a PCS virgin I had no idea how much went into transporting a household from one assignment (and one continent) to another. Just as soon as I checked something off the list, something else (or five “something elses”) appeared. It was incredibly overwhelming. The big lesson learned: Don’t work during a PCS. Take some time off. I took only one vacation day — big mistake.
As stressful as certain aspects of the move were, there were several aha moments when I realized: “This is what it means to be part of the military community.” Our friends in Rota went above and beyond to assist us; it was truly an eye-opening experience. They were helping before we could even ask for help, or knew what we needed help with.
The hardest part of the PCS was leaving those friends. With the military it is impossible to know if we will ever share a duty station with them again. We said a lot of “see you laters” — much more hopeful than “goodbye” — and we’ll continue to keep our fingers crossed that the stars will align (read: the needs of the military will align) so that we will cross paths again.
