This week wasn’t technically the first week of our PCS.  But it was the first week of us knowing anything.  But like most things in the military, even answers aren’t really answers.

On Monday I woke up, like usual, at 4.  I had a very long inner monologue where I tried to talk myself into going back to bed and cuddling up in the warm blankets.  I pushed myself out of bed the promise of coffee and watching a show with zero singing or cartoons (at least as background noise).  I got ready for the day and started my work.  As I worked I tried not to think about the coming day.

We had been on pins and needles for a few weeks wondering if, today, yes, today, would be the day we would find out where we were going, or at least, where we weren’t going.  We had spent the last 3 years dreaming of the day we could move overseas. When we found out a job Yokota could be an option, we were ecstatic, as I’m sure many other people would be.

That Monday I told myself it wasn’t going to happen.  The position had been open for a while.  If Steve had been selected we would have heard by now, right?  I had to manage my expectations and start looking for houses in Florida or Arizona or anywhere else they were going to send us.

But it was hard to get Japan out of our minds.

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The rest of the day was as eventful as any other.  Steve went to work.  Andrew and Amelia and I played with trains, blocks, books, cars.  We ran around outside finding sticks and rocks and bugs. We listened to music, and watched a movie.

When Steve came home for lunch I had just about convinced myself we weren’t moving to Japan.

It’s in the moment you’ve given up hope that it actually happens.  Steve called just after lunch and, like many before him, told me “We got an assignment.  We’re going to Japan.”

In that moment I didn’t believe it.  Like when someone tells you something you’ve been wishing for for a long time it doesn’t seem real.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He said. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, for some reason I was tearing up.  My tears were a shock to me.  What could I possibly have to cry about.  Was it happiness? Was it fear?  Probably both.

Now the real work starts. Now we figure out all of the bits and pieces that comes with an overseas PCS in 3 months with a newborn, a toddler, and trying to sell our house.

Here we go.

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