“On Beautiful, Fleeting Friendships” – by Kailyn Rhinehart

“You know how there are some things you can tell your military spouse friends before you tell your in-real-life friends?” 

My eyes scan the text as it flashes on the kitchen counter. Wiping off my peanut butter and jelly fingers on the kitchen towel, I pick up my phone and slide my thumb across the screen to unlock it. A chuckle escapes my lips. Although I haven’t heard my friend’s voice or been in the same room with her in years, she’s right. 

There’s something about these friends. 

These are the friendships set on a timer we both know exists but rarely speak of. The realization fades into the background after a while but doesn’t truly disappear. We never know when the last grain of sand will fall to the bottom. We throw ourselves into these friendships fast and furiously, eager to savor the memories, to have something to hold on to after the inevitable goodbyes. And in this brief time together, we learn how to be there for one another in intense, inexplicable ways. 

These friendships happen when you least expect it, usually at a function you half-heartedly agree to attend. At playgroups, dinner parties, award ceremonies, or bible studies. They happen when you sign up to bring a meal for that couple who just had the baby and moved here less than a month ago. They happen with little fanfare and a lot of acceptance. In these relationships, small talk skims over favorite colors and goes quickly to “how are you handling all of this?” because you see they, too, are struggling to handle it all. 

The catch? These rare and beautiful connections are only there if you look for them. 

There is another choice: to shield yourself. You can protect yourself from the hurt of goodbyes by not searching for community at all. Isolation is easy in this life. Lessen the sting that makes your heart ache to say goodbye by not connecting at all. Don’t attend that event. Don’t agree to that meet-up. 

Don’t exchange courage for comfort.

It’s easy to get somewhere new, learn a few unknown places, and then simmer until orders to move again arrive. Being stationary, in a life that seldom is, sounds good. It’s easy to fall into a routine that only includes you and the people who live within your same four walls. It’s easy to stay behind the barriers you dwell inside and not pull anyone else in. But easy and meaningful are scarcely synonymous. 

This way of life is full of goodbyes to people you become close to at neck-breaking speeds. This form of kinship and community is one of the most unexpected additions to being adopted into this world. The gift of these friendships stands the test of time zones and states, of moves and turbulent seasons of life. 

We will always be connected. 

We will forever be bonded. 

We will always be able to talk to each other. It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been since we’ve been in the same room or heard their voice in person. We will revert to the time when our stories stood still, to our goodbyes.

I believe life has put these women in my life with such intention. 

I believe the women swirling in each chapter I’ve spent as a wife, mother, and person have formed my journey as a military wife and my formation as a person. 

I believe they have taught me how to grow and stood by me as I did. 

So here’s to them. 

The friends I have had the privilege of knowing. This sisterhood of women striving for transient fellowship. With such deep gratitude to these courageous women, I remember them. Always. 

Here’s to the women who have been in my life for three years or three months and the kinship I have for the ones imprinted on my heart. I take with me each kitchen complaint session, each afternoon adventure, and the desperate pleas to “just get out of the house to go somewhere.” 

There’s something about military friendships. Goodbyes are not truly goodbye, but “I Will Remember You.” 

They stand behind you, beside you. They are next to you in each state, place, chapter, and season, only a text away. They carry you in all seasons because they have been there too. The unspoken camaraderie of military wives is not something I knew about when I agreed to this life with my husband.

But my goodness, how I am thankful for their beautiful, fleeting friendships.  

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