Tales of a Former Marine Corps Kid, And How Friendships Are Hard

There I stood. Thunder crashing. Rain threatening to pour down on my pre-teen self. My feet were set at shoulder-width apart, and my hands were clasped behind my back. Why was I doing this? Because my dad, a Marine, had to do this for hours sometimes, and I wanted to be like him.

Being a Marine Corps kid (or military brat to those in the military) was an interesting experience. We moved from up North to the East Coast to the West Coast, eventually settling in the high desert. My mom homeschooled me. I played sports when I could with the local homeschool co-ops. But I found it difficult to fit in. Kids would live somewhere their entire lives, and I would only live somewhere a max of four years.

It was hard on me. I didn’t really learn to make good, long-lasting friends until a couple of years ago. So, when I wrote my characters at the age of 12 with these amazing friends who would be loyal to the end, I wrote them how I would want to be treated (with some good old-fashioned drama and flaws, of course). To be honest, I didn’t think they could exist until I met my husband and his friends, who would become my companions, as well.

Now I know that friends can be loyal, honest, and imperfect all at the same time, which makes me feel good about the world we live in—and my writing.

Valete!