Each time we PCS, I think we'll have all kinds of time to get out, see the sights, socialize with newly-made friends and make the most of our time in a new town. When we moved here, we knew it was a short assignment, but we vowed to pack in as much as we possibly could.
You already know where I'm going with this, don't you?
Last week, I hosted a wives brunch at my house. I'm blessed to be in a group with some fantastic milspouses. Each time I'm around them, I am reminded of how much fun it is to get together. I'm keenly aware that once we leave here, we'll never see most of the people we've become friends with again. Ever. This is a terrible thought. I was reminded of this when one of the spouses said, "Can you believe there's only three months left?" Wow.....
We haven't visited half of the sights we had intended to see while here. We haven't had the geobachelors over for dinner yet. I haven't followed through on a promise to myself to arrange a girl's day out at a local day spa, on and on and on.
I'm now scrambling to make the most of our remaining three months, and I'm having something of a panic attack. There's so much I still want to do before leaving, but my schedule over the next several weeks involves a lot of travel and a lot of work. It's going to be hard to carve out time for all that I want to accomplish over the next twelve weeks. So, now I'm left trying to prioritize an unrealistic to-do list, and I'm not getting very far.
I know I'll leave here wishing I had fit everything in somehow. And I'll arrive at the next duty station with high hopes. I'll say to myself, once again, "we have plenty of time." And before I know it, we'll be moving again. And the cycle will continue.
Where does the time go?