I posted this on the new Military Community Writers page, which is a new blog for military-affiliated writers to share experiences, stories, advice, and encouragement. Active duty members, Reservists, National Guardsmen, veterans, retired service members, government employees or contractors connected to a military environment, and dependents of any of the above–all voices are welcome.

Here’s my voice for today:
When we prepared to move back to Okinawa, my kids were dealing with the all-too-frequent hardship of leaving behind their friends. I wrote this free-verse poetry, thinking of the advice I’d rather not give them, even if it applies:

Push those roots down

But not too deep

Widespread roots come up easy

Ripping away some clods of dirt

Leaving a scar on the surface

Which quickly covers over

With new grass

Deep roots don’t come up

Without violent force

Strong hands grasping,

Crushing, straining

Until everything breaks free

Deep roots leave a hole

And a damaged plant

Found a new place for you

A familiar spot to settle in

The ground is soft and moist

The air warm and damp

You’ll grow well here

So push those roots down

But not too deep.

Now, three years later, my daughter is preparing for a new life, marrying the man she loves before he goes off to Basic to join the Air Force. He arrives in a week. They leave a little over a week after that. She’s already packing and planning, excited to see him, worried about forgetting anything essential.

Didn’t I once tell you

That shallow roots were best?

That loose knots untie easier, 

And the hope of what’s ahead

May even shine far brighter

Than the light we leave behind?

Well, I’m sorry, but I lied to you

Or–more truthful–to myself. 

Because there’s no untangling

These roots dug in my heart. 

Only forceful application 

Of a weeding tool or spade

Can separate this budding rose

From all this dry-packed dirt.

And though it feels to me right now 

Like no amount of time gone by 

Will sweep away the scar of absence,

This I also know: 

That neither shall the passing years

Diminish your past presence,

Nor steal the treasured memories

Nor smooth out laugh lines by my eyes

Nor turn the gray hairs back to brown.

And if in my heart there shall remain 

The hole where once you grew and flourished,

Then know that always and forever

There’s a place for you and yours

A welcome mat laid at the door

Even if your stay is brief,

And arms extended to bring in

The luggage you now pack to leave.