Sixteen years ago today, I couldn't walk fast enough down the aisle to say YES to the most handsome newly commissioned 2nd lieutenant fresh off a college graduation that took him from the Green of his days as an Army infantryman to the Gold of his new life in the U.S. Army Medical Corps.

At age 21, I knew exactly nothing about military life.

But my Prince Charming was quick to fill me in.

"Military life is like one big, free vacation with an opportunity to see the world!" he promised this twitterpated girl who also heard the words "side of adult prom" and signed her name in blood.

Tiny, itty bitty omission: Without him.

Because as we loaded up our possessions and moved (three times via full DITY, God bless our marriage and the entire 10 pizzas we ate late into the night as we packed up Granny's China for yet *another* destination where it would be thought about and then used exactly NEVER) to places like Alaska and Washington and Texas and Kentucky, one thing always seemed to be missing.

That steadfast soldier I married.