All My Friends Are Not Here

From January 2025

Coffee for Two: All My Friends Are Not Here. 2024. Oil, Pastel, Gouache, Charcoal and Acrylic on Arches Oil

Transitions are hard; they always are. The rhythm of life is upended- the familiar replaced with the unnamed- comfort with anxiety and struggle. Everyday tasks become monumental.

And your friends? Spread to the far corners of the earth- literally.

As military spouses, we become adept at the art of saying goodbye. We seal our sorrows down deep, push ahead, and move on.

This time, though. This time was tough.

I left Hudson Valley views and Appalachian trails that I gleefully explored by myself and with others. I left ultra-running friends, biking friends, and my beloved DWC (the unofficial Dog walking club of Bowman Loop).

I left city visits where I dragged any available friend to whatever new museum/ gallery opening NYC had.

I left seasons so beautiful I wonder why people ever go.

But mostly, I left them.

I left friends that dropped by my back stoop or patio unannounced.

Friends that stopped me on the street to talk or offer me a drink.

Friends that dropped off food or treats just because.

Friends that supported and humored me with my painting project.

Friends that had lived similar experiences and just understood...

Yes, this move was hard. Maybe because I am older and life has reordered itself from being primarily focused on keeping my children alive to something else. I have more time for reflection, painting, and friends.

So months later, with a partially unpacked, partially remodeled house, this was the first thing on my mind. Leaving yet again, another group of friends.

I sat, in my new studio, and thought, "I really could go for a cup of coffee right now."

Then-

"I don't have anyone to go with."

And there it was. That knowing, knowing that while I have plenty of friends, none of them are here...

Of course, it's just a moment of reflection and acknowledgment that this is part of the military life cycle. It might seem a little melodramatic, but to the military spouse, it's part of our existence. It happens over and over (approx every 2-3 years). If you're lucky, you move to a post that has people you already know there.

And if not, you start over, again.

So in this painting, I'm having coffee with a friend. Even though she's wandering Eastern Europe, we still converse on WhatsApp—conversations that drop in and out. Kind of like my paintings—the figures come in and out...

#disruptedmilitaryspousportraits #milspouse #sponsorslastfour