Listen to an excerpt of Summer of Possibility by Krysten Lindsay Hager

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Friendship

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I have to admit I wasn’t prepared for life here. The two people who gave me the best insight about military life were my friend, Jen B, and my cousin, Bill. Bill told me just when you get settled and make friends, either they’ll leave, or you will and that’s becoming the trend. In the last place I lived, I went to more farewell parties in less than a year and a half than I had in my whole life. But here it’s a whole different story. Most people are here for only two years, unless they’re single or unaccompanied, then it’s 18 months. So by the time you arrive, a lot of people you meet are on their way out. I have already said good-bye to the people I was closest to when I first arrived. I didn’t expect to make close friends in such a short period of time and then I did and, poof! Now they’re gone, too. It almost makes me wonder if I would have been better off not getting as close so it wouldn’t be so depressing when they all left. However, then I wouldn’t have made the good frie...
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MJ

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I've been trying to wrap my mind around Michael Jackson's death. Over here, the European music stations have been playing his music videos non-stop. They've been showing a lot of Michael's newer stuff that I hadn't before like the "Stranger in Moscow" song, etc. But having them go through the catalog of his work really triggered a lot of memories and reminded me what a big part his music played in my life growing up. I can remember dancing to his music in nursery school. When a neighborhood friend came over to play, I remember she was wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt and her mom said, "Annie loves Mickey. She wants to marry him." My mom looked at me (wearing my baby blue iron-on MJ t-shirt) said, "My future son-in-law might be Michael Jackson." I used to carry my MJ slouchy fake leather purse with his picture on it--the same one all the middle school and high school girls carried. I'd see the older girls at the bus stop with...
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Boxes Everywhere

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There are so many reasons to hate moving. The worst part? Having your nice clean, once sanitary things placed in a box where they are touching stuff that you really thought you threw out. Like when my beautiful throw pillows that can’t be disinfected are placed on the same shoe racks that once held shoes. And not just any shoes. Shoes that walked on ancient European streets that were riddled with stray dog excrement and a trillion years of disease. Remember there were plagues in Europe and your history books had illustrations of carts holding bloated corpses they took off the streets due to said plagues. Hence why my shoe dirt is not ordinary shoe dirt. Plus the road across the street from where I lived had animals on it daily when the farmers walked their cows down it. Why? I still have no clue. Maybe cows need exercise? But it is interesting to note that European farmers dress a lot better than American ones. They would spit on a John Deere hat. But nonetheless, the dirt on my shoes ...
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