Home

I’ve come to a startling realization. I hate admitting this more than I hate to admit that I use math almost every day in my new job.

I was wrong.

“No!”

Yes. I was actually startlingly, incomprehensibly wrong. I thought, said, and wrote on more than one occasion that I would not miss my hometown, and that I was excited to get a move on my life. Yup. Wrong.

I have realized, after a month in my new town [mostly my parents new town, as I will be spending 8 months of the year at university 4337 km away from here] that home is not where all your stuff is [here isn’t even that, because all my stuff isn’t here yet]. Home is where the heart is. Oh yes, I know how cliche that is. But my God is it true.

I’m not going to make things all pretty and shiny for you. I’m going to get right down to it and say that the teenagers here suck. None of them will talk to me, or even look at me, let alone be friends with me. The thing here is there are a lot of summer people to whom the locals do not speak, and for the past five or so years, I have been one of those summer people. Moving here in the summer just means that they think that I’m just another summer person, and since I’ll be going to school in the fall, and the first time I come back home is at Christmas, they’ll always think I’m just a vacationer.

I also just won’t have the time to make friends here. Once I get here, I’ll be gone in two weeks, except for summers which are four months – but hopefully I’ll get awesome internships for part, or all, of those summers.

It’s been bringing me down a lot recently, living in a place where I don’t know anyone, and nobody knows me. As much as I hated the town where I lived my entire childhood, and the redneckedness, I really enjoyed being part of the community. I don’t mean being part of the community in the way that I volunteered regularly, or did that sort of thing; but when I walked into one of my regular places there I would be greeted by name, by people who have known me my entire life. Maybe it’s a comfort thing, a way to feel important, and maybe it’s entirely vain… but I don’t think so. I think it’s about feeling at home.

I don’t feel at home here, and I probably never will. Actually, let me just edit that – I feel at home here in my house. I feel at home with my family, and I feel at home with my Auntie and Uncle [no blood relation, but they’re more of a family than anyone who is blood related to me – other than my parents and sister – have ever been] and their family, and my parents’ friends, and my sister’s boyfriend and blah blah blah. But I don’t feel like I’m really a part of this community – even though I work in one of the most community oriented jobs on the island.

I suppose the biggest thing I would like is a friend… parents and sisters are cool… but sometimes I’d like to hang out with someone that I’m not related to.

Advertisements
2 comments
  1. Devan said:

    Sorry I couldn’t come visit! 😦

  2. It’s okay bebe! It was really really nice to see your parents, and you had to work and stuff. Maybe at Christmas or something you’ll be around when I’m around.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: