My world is different.

Finishing school meant that I had to leave the Army. I used to despise those who always told those, ‘best time of my life,’ stories. The next 6 years found me telling them…

“…when I was a flight medic…”

The Army defined me.

My patients spoke to my heart.

My friends held me together.

My fellow soldiers, who were both of the above, proved that loyalty does exist.

I was where I belonged.

Age 30. An Ivy League educated Nurse Practitioner with enough credentials to be ridiculous.

Empty.

Homesick.

Soft.

An Army Reserve Nurse.

Mom still calls it, ‘summer camp.’ I was dreading Annual Training. Commissioned for 2.5 years—only 18 days in uniform during that time. I was scared. I had no idea what to expect. Not once did it cross my mind that the powerful change I experienced while on active duty would reemerge like the second coming.

As I sit here at 0035 in a small pizza place back home, everything feels different.

What happened to that young, ambitious kick ass flight medic?

She is still here.

I have found her again.

Roused from torpor.

How would I be as an officer? Could I handle responsibility? Would I remember how to be a soldier?

Good.

Yes.

Yes.

The haze, dust and murk accumulated over the past 6 years has cleared.

4 bottles of scotch, a disgusting amount of vodka, and one huge hang over have clarified, yet complicated, my existence.

The Fantastic 4 have cemented the change.

Alcohol + the 4, and I have lived 14 days that I will never forget.

Passion, intelligence, friendship & shenanigans.

I miss you three as I even breathe.