Our Evolving Stories

After years of telling our stories here on this blog, it’s finally time to build a better one.
One with more options, with more space, with fewer issues.

We want this new space to become more, to showcase how we’ve grown-not just the team, but all of us, as military spouses, family members, active duty, vets.

This, here,  is our plan.

And so here we are.

Many of you have been here with us, on this journey from the very beginning.

Some of you have joined us over the years.

Some of you are brand new, and wondering exactly what’s going on.


Who we are as spouses, as military dependents, as those who love a service member, or once did, has evolved.

Has changed.

We’ve changed.

We’ve grown worn.

But stronger.


But resilient.


But not truly alone.


We’ve talked a lot about the ugly side of military life.

The stresses.

The moves.

The anger.

The pain.

The overwhelming fear.

It’s all still there, but we’ve learned how much more we are because of it now.

And because of that, we have so much more to talk about now.


We are strong.




Owning our stories.

Full of light and wonder.

Never kept down.

A family of people we’ve never met, but know because their stories and voices are our own.


And we, the Her War team, we want to create a space for the evolving story of the military spouse.

All of us.

Because it’s time for us to move out of the shadows of who the wars made us, into our own light.


Let’s create something beautiful.

Something that reminds us that we are never again alone.


b and w trees - Copy (800x600)


Val portrait

The trouble with souvenirs brought back to us by our loved ones is that they sometimes remind us of what we’ve missed out on.

The lives they lived apart from the life they promised to live with us.

They fill us with the fear that the time we spend with them isn’t as good as the time apart.

I am angry at his books.

At the mementoes from other countries

He has been to

But we haven’t.

The kitschy picture frame

Full of sand from


Makes me want to send it flying.

The mugs from Greece

Might shatter with a satisfying smash.

Rome, Spain, China, Australia, Turkey, Peru, Chile

Port visits that have held him when we could not.

And so, I want to pitch

These trinkets into the fire.


More new lands will hold him

New seas will rock him to sleep

In his solitary berthing

While I lay cold

In our lonely, too-big bed.

I know this should not make me angry.

He would much prefer that we be with him,

In those places.

Or that he was home

Sitting with us by the warmth of the fire.

I should be happy that he is LIVING

While he is gone

And has brief moments of freedom

From the

Groundhog Days

Of work.

We are both making the most

Out of life

While apart

And that is as it should be.

But some raw part of me

Reacts with fury just the same.

Not at him….

Just at the feeling

And reminders of



He’ll bring home new trinkets

New books and photos

Of places I won’t want

To look at

Because they remind me that he lived and experienced

These New places,

new lands…

Without us again.

They held him

When we could not

And who held us?