When my dad told us we were moving to Italy, this is not what I expected.
It's bland. For those of you that have never been on a military base, imagine seeing a caged-in town through a dull, brown lens. This uniformed environment is familiar to me, but not in a pleasant or comfortable way. I want a place to call home. I'm tired of temporary living.
It's been one day in Naples and I'm here for 3 years. Time starts now and I begin to count the days.
YOU ARE READING
Counting the Days
Non-FictionI moved again. The clock has reset and the days are numbered. I am trapped in this military cycle.
