We live in a society that teaches us not to have regrets. We are told to go all-in, all the time; pour your heart and soul into everything you’re doing.
For the most part, I subscribe to this mentality, but given the chance, there are a few things I’d gladly jump in a time machine to correct. Like the day I got my flip flop caught in a revolving door at my brand new job after changing out of my heels: could have done without that.
More aching on my heartstrings is the first time I received an email from a fellow military spouse, inviting me to have coffee.
A month before my husband and I were married, he took orders to San Diego. Determined to keep my job in Washington D.C., I commuted the first six months after our wedding. We were newly married, but I was living out of a suitcase. Somewhere in there a woman emailed me, introducing herself and inviting me to get together. We were going to be in Guam at the same time, and she had previously lived there. I thanked her, but ultimately blew it off. I didn’t consider myself a “typical” military spouse – whatever I thought that was. I had a good job, no kids, my own identity and a big ‘ole chip on my shoulder. I didn’t have time for coffee.