"My roots have grown, but I don't know where they are." -Cats and Dogs, The Head and the Heart
It's one of the first questions people ask when meeting me, and it is often the one I ask them in return. "Where are you from?" And I hesitate, then give a response- sometimes just the US (when I'm with mostly non-North Americans), sometimes the West Coast US, sometimes Seattle... but even then, I'm unsure of the proper answer. The truth is, I have no idea what it is like to have an official hometown to claim, or to grow up in one place or its surrounding areas. I don't know the feeling of returning to the spot where I know the neighbors, or organizing a get-together with my circle of childhood/high school/university friends. Most people I know return to visit the house that was once theirs, maybe even to a room they once inhabited, a kitchen with junk drawers that seem to hold the same pens for decades, a bathroom with a never-ending bottle of that shampoo that's been there forever, the layouts of each room, every nook and cranny, singed into memory. I've wondered how that might be, but also am thankful that I have had my own unique path as well:
Ages 0-3: Born in Oregon- memories of a house my Dad built with a wood stove and a stream out back. My sister joined us and we headed east.
3-6: Minnesota- lived with extended family and in campus housing at seminary, where the sledding hills were killer. Sometimes I still slip into a peculiar Minnesotan/Canadian accent that I'm sure began here.
7: Eastern Washington- my piano teacher was my 2nd grade teacher and I swam every day in the summer that short internship year.
8-12: Fairfield, Montana- a town of 1000 for Grades 3-6, surrounded by amazingly loving people everywhere, 1-cent licorice, and we never locked our doors.
13-18: Great Falls and Missoula, Montana- Grades 7-13 built tons of middle school, then Great Falls High School memories with one year spent hippied-out at University of MT.
19-21: Tacoma, Washington for college- Pacific Lutheran University, whoop!
22-29: Around Seattle, Washington teaching elementary and middle school- where it all went down, and this became my "home" because my family finally settled there for a while.
30-32: Los Angeles- big change doing instructional coaching at five schools in the huge metropolis, lived by LAX in the hood, then off Santa Monica beach and had some crazy good times in the sunshine.
33 on: Around Zurich, Switzerland- and living the European dream...
Perhaps this is the reason the desire for change lights a fire in my belly every couple years, or the reason I'm abroad and wanting to stay that way. I suppose I'm a bit of a rolling stone. Although not nearly as transient as my international kids, I've realized that my experiences have shaped me to ebb and flow with my natural desire to move, settle in for a short time, nest, then pack up and move on. There is an entire great, big, weird, wonderful world out there, and I'm intent on making my way through it one way or another. In my world, home is defined only by people, rather than the place. So, Switzerland is currently my home, full of people and things I adore. And Seattle is my official Home, I suppose, as my family and friends greet me with love every time I make the trek back. It is the perfect place to claim, especially because the vibe suits me so well. So, as I eagerly anticipate, only 17 days til I'm Home!!!
It's one of the first questions people ask when meeting me, and it is often the one I ask them in return. "Where are you from?" And I hesitate, then give a response- sometimes just the US (when I'm with mostly non-North Americans), sometimes the West Coast US, sometimes Seattle... but even then, I'm unsure of the proper answer. The truth is, I have no idea what it is like to have an official hometown to claim, or to grow up in one place or its surrounding areas. I don't know the feeling of returning to the spot where I know the neighbors, or organizing a get-together with my circle of childhood/high school/university friends. Most people I know return to visit the house that was once theirs, maybe even to a room they once inhabited, a kitchen with junk drawers that seem to hold the same pens for decades, a bathroom with a never-ending bottle of that shampoo that's been there forever, the layouts of each room, every nook and cranny, singed into memory. I've wondered how that might be, but also am thankful that I have had my own unique path as well:
Ages 0-3: Born in Oregon- memories of a house my Dad built with a wood stove and a stream out back. My sister joined us and we headed east.
3-6: Minnesota- lived with extended family and in campus housing at seminary, where the sledding hills were killer. Sometimes I still slip into a peculiar Minnesotan/Canadian accent that I'm sure began here.
7: Eastern Washington- my piano teacher was my 2nd grade teacher and I swam every day in the summer that short internship year.
8-12: Fairfield, Montana- a town of 1000 for Grades 3-6, surrounded by amazingly loving people everywhere, 1-cent licorice, and we never locked our doors.
13-18: Great Falls and Missoula, Montana- Grades 7-13 built tons of middle school, then Great Falls High School memories with one year spent hippied-out at University of MT.
19-21: Tacoma, Washington for college- Pacific Lutheran University, whoop!
22-29: Around Seattle, Washington teaching elementary and middle school- where it all went down, and this became my "home" because my family finally settled there for a while.
30-32: Los Angeles- big change doing instructional coaching at five schools in the huge metropolis, lived by LAX in the hood, then off Santa Monica beach and had some crazy good times in the sunshine.
33 on: Around Zurich, Switzerland- and living the European dream...
Perhaps this is the reason the desire for change lights a fire in my belly every couple years, or the reason I'm abroad and wanting to stay that way. I suppose I'm a bit of a rolling stone. Although not nearly as transient as my international kids, I've realized that my experiences have shaped me to ebb and flow with my natural desire to move, settle in for a short time, nest, then pack up and move on. There is an entire great, big, weird, wonderful world out there, and I'm intent on making my way through it one way or another. In my world, home is defined only by people, rather than the place. So, Switzerland is currently my home, full of people and things I adore. And Seattle is my official Home, I suppose, as my family and friends greet me with love every time I make the trek back. It is the perfect place to claim, especially because the vibe suits me so well. So, as I eagerly anticipate, only 17 days til I'm Home!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment