Decisions

I hate 'em. Not the little ones - I hate the big ones. The big, bright, clear, life-changing decisions. I hate the sound of a door closing, and the really big decisions always shut one.

I made a big one in 1996, when I was 17 and enlisted in the Marine Corps. It was my first grownup decision. Very nearly everyone in my life told me not to do it, for a multitude of reasons. I did it anyway, and remain convinced it was the best move I've ever made.

I left the Corps in '01. That was a coin toss. I knew if I walked away, I wouldn't go back. I loved the Marine Corps, but it drove me crazy. So I left. In hindsight? I'd still get out. I miss it, but many of the wonderful things since then wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed.

I got married in '01. That wasn't a decision that was hard, although perhaps it should have been. Who hasn't, at one point or another, thought it may have been better to stay entirely in charge of their own life? It ain't easy, but on balance, I married my best friend and it's been worth it.

Joined the Army Reserve in '03. Another one that nobody (with the exception of Mr. Abby) approved of. He wasn't nuts about the idea, but he knew what makes me tick, and so he had my back. The Army was insane. Some of the best moments and biggest headaches of my life. I'd do it again.

Left the Army a few months ago. I never did really feel like that was entirely my decision (since so many other people were emotionally involved - sometimes more than I was, it seemed), and so I just put off staying in. Looked at re-enlistment papers when I was overseas, thought about it real hard when I got back, and eventually just let the sand run out of the glass. Time will tell whether or not that was a good call.

Where are you going with this? you say. You're doing the long-into thing again.

Well, you remember that before we knew about Dallas, it was looking as though Mr. Abby was going to be sent somewhere truly awful. I mean, really really bad. Not so much for him, but suffice it to say my life would probably have consisted of working as a WalMart checker in a hellhole desert town.

I love my husband, but I've learned that we don't necessarily know how much time we have. And I realized that the hellhole move was going to break me, make me into someone I hated. I'm not nuts about me right now, but at least I feel like it's a temporary state. Even thinking about living like that made me cry. So I resolved that I wouldn't go. I started filling out job applications.

Then the Marine Corps changed its mind. Dallas, they said. I can work with that, I thought. Might be fun. Real town, real job options - it was something I could be enthused about.

So I was driving up to Georgia the other day, and my cell rang. It was the US Forest Service in Alaska, calling to offer me a job in my field on a small island in the Inside Passage. The money was good. Since I was a little kid, I've always dreamed about living up there.

Drove and sobbed, sobbed and drove. Got to Georgia, kicked things around with Cousin R. Argued both sides. Called Mr. Abby, sobbed some more, argued both sides.

Wouldn't have sobbed if I didn't already know what I was going to do. I mourn the decisions already made - those that are truly fully on the table merit study, not hysterics.

Called the Forest Service. Told them I appreciated their offer, but was going to go in another direction. To Texas.

There are no sure bets out there. Florida sounded like a good one, and it's turned out to be a big old shit sandwich that I only got to stop chewing on when I went to a war. If that's the high point of any three-year period, it's been a pretty shitful three years.

In the absence of sure bets, all we can do is try to make the decision that we really think is the right thing to do. Running away on a life that's not as much fun as I think it ought to be...well, at some point that might be the best thing to do. But not right now. Alaska isn't going anywhere.

So to Texas it is. And I'm happy about that. But damn -

All I can say is, Texas better be a real good time.