Being a pilot wife is…well, unique. It’s feeling like you live two completely separate, unrelated lives – the one when your husband is home and the one when he’s not – and trying to find some kind of balance between the chaos of the two. It’s watching your husband pack everything he
I recently sat across the table from another woman over a dinner of sub-par pizza at a unexceptional restaurant. We attempted to have some semblance of a conversation despite the persistent din of her young children, who apparently found our attempts at female fellowship dull, at best. It was my first time
Tuesday night I asked a seemingly simple question on my The Pilot WifeLife Facebook page: How did you meet your aviation spouse? The response was breathtaking and diverse, as I knew it would be! Because you, my family, are breathtaking and diverse. “He’s a gift!” “My best friend.” “Married 41 years. He
The old has passed and the new has come. On the eve of the dawn of a new year there lingers the delicious aroma of wonder and possibility. It feels like, if even for a moment, anything is possible. For a frozen second in time, the stars will align and all of
I recently wrote an article entitled Four Gifts for Your Husband to Save Your Struggling Marriage. It examined some important needs that men have in order for your marriages to flourish – respect, some slack, prayer, and authentic sexual intimacy with your spouse. But let’s get real for a second. Marriage is
Every year it’s the same. Aviation families all around the world hold their collective breaths waiting for that moment that makes or breaks us. It’s the moment when we find out if he, our beloved pilot, will be home with his own family for Christmas…or making sure other people get to be with
We have always allowed our children to place the ornaments on the Christmas tree. It is a special time when we talk about each ornament and the memories that it represents. There’s the sand- and seashell-filled bulb from our amazing trip to San Diego; the yellow lab puppy for the year we got our
It was November 24th, 2000—just another Thanksgiving morning. It was also the day I died. But wait, let’s backtrack a bit. Two months earlier I was just living my life, doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted. I was 24, single(ish) with suitors out the wazoo, making really good money, and the owner of
We’ve all seen the movie (only like fifty million times during his last trip). A chance encounter. A twist of fate. A stolen kiss. And they fall instantly, deeply, madly in love on the Carolina beaches beneath a breathtaking sunset. They spend two romantic, whirlwind weeks of sheer bliss together before she heads
It’s almost midnight now. About an hour ago, I was lying here in my comfy little bed reading a book, juuuuust about to [finally] drift into some much needed sleep when there was a loud crash on my back porch. By loud, I mean I’m pretty sure the sky fell. I jolted
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