Nine

Nine years.

As of this week, we have been stationed here on the bayou for nine long years.

We've lived in this house for seven of them.

Both of my kids were born here.

Yes, my kids were born on the bayou. And if recent events are any indication, they could be completely raised here too.

For years we've been saying that we will most likely move before my daughter starts fourth grade and my son starts first. We expected my husband to be selected to attend a certain school and move on.

He wasn't selected. It sucks.

My whole outlook on our future changed in a matter of moments.

Since college, my husband and I have been working toward something. We were working toward his success in a career which he loves. Whenever a decision had to be made, the first question we asked was, "How will this affect his career."

Oh, sure, we considered how a decision would affect the family too, but when your breadwinner's career is so entwined with your family's lifestyle, what's best for his career is usually what is best for the family.

Besides, we wanted to experience the world.

Now suddenly, his job just may be a way for him to earn income.

For the first time ever, we're considering throwing our hands in the air and accepting this place as home. As much as I hate this place (and I do) there are things I love about it.

We love our kids' school. We're on the school board. We've given more money than we can afford to the school. Would it be so bad to let them stay there?

I've grown roots these last few years. Roots I've never had before. I have friends and associations I never even expected. I'm a big fish in a little pond.

I'm comfortable.

It's a huge decision. Do we fight for what my husband deserves? Or do we accept this life as ours?

I'm torn. I'm a little helpless. I'm not so angry anymore. I can see more clearly now.

I'm just still a little bit shocked that I can see us making a permanent life here.

At least until the kids hit high school.