Dateline: Cincinnati. I'm sitting in a lounge provided for military members and families by the airport, local volunteers and donors -- a godsend in the midst of a six-hour layover before our nine-hour flight to Frankfurt. My two children and I are surrounded by other military family members, some sleeping, reading or watching television, each waiting for the next leg of the journey.

I've been incommunicado for a few weeks. I started out with good intentions this summer. We are in the midst of a PCS to another location in Germany. That sounds like an easy door to door move, two hours and change down the Autobahn, but throw in a necessary trip to the U.S. to get drivers ed and a learner's for my daughter and install my oldest son in college, and you've got the makings for a lost summer. Where did it go?

When we get to our new home, we'll have just ten days until school starts for my high school and middle school children. This summer's travel was nothing compared to our multi-state marathon last July and August, yet I haven't posted a thing since the week after our movers came.

Tomorrow I'll carry my suitcases into a house I haven't seen yet, where most of our worldly goods sit waiting in cardboard boxes. Although I'm ready to stop traveling, I think it will be a while before I truly feel I am home again.