Thursday, July 15, 2010

Driving, driving, driving


Greetings from Renee Ryan. I'm in the middle of a cross-country move as I type this. I have the added pleasure of pulling a u-haul trailer behind my car. Hitching a ride with me are my eighteen year-old-daughter and her carsick cat. I'm driving from Lincoln, Nebraska to Savannah, Georgia. Unfortunately, this is the third time I've made this trip in a year. All because my husband and I wanted to make sure the above mentioned teenager had a chance to graduate from her extraordinary high school in the Midwest. It's been a long year.

The good news is that this move will bring me back to the south. Better yet, I get to live in the same house with husband once again. Did I mention this has been a looooong year? During the last twelve months without my husband by my side I kept wondering how military families do it. How do they survive the time apart? What a sacrifice the spouses and children make. Same goes for the soldiers. Talk about genuine heroes.

My next release, HOMECOMING HERO, has a military hero. An active-duty military hero, to be precise. Living in Savannah again, I'm excited to rekindle friendships, many of which are with soldiers and their spouses. I'm awed by all of them. I only had a taste of "time apart" from my husband. I always knew it was temporary, that we'd be together again soon. My heart goes out to the families who don't have that knowledge. God bless you all!!!!!!!

~Renee~

2 comments:

Patty said...

Renee, Welcome Home! I moved back to Atlanta last June after living in Grand Rapids, Michigan for seven years. (And we stayed so that our girls could graduate from their fantastic high school too.)

I love your historicals--I write historicals too--but will be picking up your new comtemporary as soon as I see it on the shelves.

Blessings on your day,

Patty Smith Hall

Pat Davids said...

Renee,
As a former Navy wife I know about long seperations. I'm happy you and hubby will soon be together. It's hard but it makes for some sweet reunions.
Pat