My neighborhood is all about heavily guarded gates with tire shredders to deter unwanted people from entering. It’s about beautiful old historic homes and buildings with stories of ghosts. It’s about runways and the sound of B-52 engine runs that get really loud on humid nights. It’s about the smell of jet fuel when the atmosphere is right.
The majority of our homes fly the American flag every single day.
You see, I don’t live “in” a city, as most people do. I live “on” an Air Force Base.
We start the day at 7 with the sound of Reveille. At 5 we stop what we’re doing, place our hands over our hearts and go silent while our National Anthem is being played. Every night, at 9, we pause to reflect as the haunting notes of Taps filter through our walls and into our homes.
My daily walk with my dog often takes me past an air park full of static displays where the sound of big band music from WWII fills the air.
Or it can take me along the runway where B-52’s practice touch and go’s on a continual basis.
Perhaps I walk the perimeter road, past the commissary, the library, the bowling alley, the chapel and the gym. If I choose to wander the inner streets I pass impressive headquarter buildings, control towers and industrial complexes. It’s all here, within easy reach, and all in my neighborhood.
This week I gained access to the old water tower that looms over the base, giving me a completely new perspective of where I live. My home is just to the right of the flagpole in this shot, hidden underneath the trees.
The opposite side of the tower afforded me these views….
I leave you with what I see when I open my front door in the morning….my immediate surroundings, full of live oak and magnolia trees, and neighbors that are some of the best I’ve known. As a military spouse, I know it will soon be full of moving vans, and my world will change once again. We are never residents of our neighborhoods for long.