A blog by Ellen Owusu
I GREW up in one house, on one street, surrounded by the same friends and neighbours.
Life had a reassuring rhythm, and I assumed that was what childhood was meant to look like. However, my children’s lives have not been that way.
As a military family, we move often. New schools, new homes, new friendships, sometimes just as old ones begin to take root. There are moments, especially when the boxes come out again, when I wonder if I am asking too much of them.
Then I heard military children described as dandelions. At first, it seemed an unusual comparison. But the more I thought about it, the more it stayed with me.
Dandelions do not wait for perfect conditions. They grow where they land, they adapt, persist and continue to bloom. I began to see my children differently.
Years ago, my husband was away, and I was heavily pregnant and struggling with simple tasks. Without being asked, my toddler son started helping me load the washing machine. He didn’t understand the task, but he understood that I needed help.
Military children often learn responsibility early. They also learn what it means to support others, because they live it every day.
They become used to starting again, walking into classrooms where no one knows them and finding their place.
After one move, my son came home from his first day at a new school, and that evening there was a knock on the door. Three boys stood there asking if he could come out to play. I had not even finished unpacking, but he had already begun to build a new world for himself.
Living in different places, including overseas, has also widened their view of the world. They meet people from different backgrounds, and instead of hesitation, they show curiosity.
I used to worry that all this moving was taking something from them, a sense of stability, a fixed idea of home. But I have realised it is giving them something else. They are resilient.
Though they miss people and places and ‘grieve’ what they leave behind, they keep going, carrying those memories with them.
My children are dandelions; they land in unfamiliar places and find a way to grow.
So perhaps it is time we recognise what these children carry. Not just the disruption, but the strength. Not just the goodbyes, but the courage to begin again. Let us celebrate the resilience, empathy and adaptability they develop.
Because military children are not just learning to cope with change, they are learning how to thrive through it.