Growing up was always a bit difficult. Right off the bat, I’ll
allow you a bit of mental ease so your poor souls can relax. This is not a post
on “never really fitting in” or
teenage parent angst. Though I’d love to tell you all about my awkward grade
school days when my hair braids were thicker than my neck, my enlarged stroppy bobble-head awkwardly sitting atop my malnourished looking build, and my inability
to read English (my third language) rendered me nearly incapable of making any
friends. Yup...I’ll have to pass for now - those days can wait. It is my personal belief that I’ve grown into my overly large, grotesque teeth. It took years (and a great
deal of assistance from braces), but those days are finally over – and, as far
as I’m concerned, that’s more than enough to keep me happy for eons to come.
Rather, this is a post on the difficulties of consistent change.
The change that takes you from one country to another and back again, only to
find that when you return, everything (including yourself) has changed.
Moving from country to country, city to city, has always had
its incredible advantages. Eye-opening experiences and immersing oneself in
various cultures and traditions should be experienced by all (surely, this
would cease racism and prejudice to some extent). Yet what of the
disadvantages? I don’t mean to speak of traveling in a negative light at all,
rather, I speak of leaving one’s home behind to start countless new chapters in
one’s life. What happens when you leave all you know for a place you’ve only
read about?
My family moved often when I was young. Just as I would
settle in, get back into the rhythm of school, and find a few friends, we were
on the road again. In theory, it really does sound nice – I’ve never been one
to grow attached to places or things (France and Morocco always being the
exception), but it was always a bit of a mental toll. In hindsight, I believe it has
shaped me that way – I never
fully let myself get comfortable as I know I’ll
hit the road one day or another.
Leaving was always more or less difficult but I found
returning to be the laborious part. With friends and family in almost every corner
of the world, it’s difficult to see most contacts more than once every three or
four years. Though we now have the luxuries of email, skype, facebook, and
numerous other social platforms, the luxury of time has diminished. This has
left a gap between me and so many. It has always been worrisome to return home
after months or years and see old friends. I worry what we will discuss, if we’ve
both changed too much, or if we no longer have anything in common. I’ve never
been one to keep too many people very close in my life, and those who do seem to overcome
these obstacles. I am so reclusive, I need others with the same mentality – the
mentality that we don’t have to talk for weeks, months, sometimes even years,
but we both know that once we reunite, we will pick up right where we left off.
I’ve been in Toronto for almost four years now. Graduation
is just around the corner and I’ve found myself wondering where I’ll have to
start anew in the upcoming term. It’s unlikely I’ll remain in Canada, and I ponder
how that will affect my relationships in this country. Will I again find
trouble settling in to a new city (possibly country abroad?) or will I find
that, for once, it comes with ease? Leaving Chicago is never easy - but at least I know I'll always return there, even if for a short visit, as long as my parents are living there. I don't have that comfort with Toronto...
And that, my friends, is the difficulty of moving from place
to place. Constantly making and losing those who were (at least for one point in your life) very
close to your heart.
Modcloth Dress | Dorothy Perkins Heels | Tommy Hilfiger Watch