Next year in Iran

A year ago, my bags were packed, I was moved out of my apartment, and I was counting down the hours until take off. Once I got to my temporary duty station, I met a lot of great people and made quite a few friends (one, whom I've stayed close with, I met at the airport, before we even left). I left my first office (the best 6 weeks of my life... or close to it anyway) begrudgingly. I did not want to leave my newly-acquired friends, and I was not quite ready to face another unknown so quickly. One of the Navy guys there was always joking that we would all be back together in a year... only, in Iran the next time around. Of course, it was all in jest, but he kept saying it to comfort me as I left a place that had become my home like no other place has been since I left my family for college many years ago. "Next year in Iran!" It was somehow strangely comforting, and I think part of me almost believed it. As we head into another holiday season, I am beginning to feel out of place - like I don't belong here. I can't explain it, but I feel like I am supposed to over there... maybe not Iran, but Iraq, or Afghanistan, or... I don't know... somewhere in the world where our troops are deployed...