;)
Walkaways
Monday, November 14, 2011 at 11:46AMTwo years ago today, I asked my children to leave everything they ever knew behind, again, follow us somewhere none of us had ever seen, again, and lay down the seeds of an entirely new life. Again. Two years ago, we opened the door to this house, held our breath, and stepped into come what may.
Where are you from they ask me, these new people I’m constantly having to learn. I can never figure out if they mean where I was born, or where I was the person that I used to be, or where I became this person I am now, or where I last lived, or where I would go if I had the choice?
I have no idea where I am from.
I am cheap ground beef.
I keep telling my children that some people go their entire lives in the same place, with the same people, living the same lives until they die, but they...oh, they! They have lived in countries, plural. They have seen things, touched lives, loved and been loved in return, I tell them, and they will be richer people for it.
I’m not certain any of us actually believe that anymore.
My children have a amassed an army of friends that reaches across the width and breadth of this continent. I lied about my kids ages so they could have Facebook accounts to feel connected all their Denverite and Canadian friends who's parents lied about their ages, too, and I don't regret it for a second, but I also don't think for one second that it will be enough.
What I don't want my kids to ever learn is that having all of those people out there in the ether, just out of reach, only serves to reinforce just how alone you really are. That every time you leave someone behind, the hole that is left in you is never big enough for someone new to fill. I watch my children play out front with the friends they are making here. They play basketball and build skateboard ramps and catch disgusting toads and ride bikes and talk about girls until well past dark. I smile because I think they can look at those kids and see their future. I am so terrified for the day that they look at their friends and think what I think: it's just a matter of time before you're just someone we're going to have to remember.
Are you making friends there they ask me, those people whom I've spent my entire life leaving. Well, there is that one I say, not knowing how to tell them that I don't think I can anymore.
Reader Comments (23)
You can't ever leave me. That is all.
More reason I need to get Fury an Xbox for Xmas. Shooting Zombies over a wireless network is the new Irving's.
I haven't moved often, but those I have left behind and have to remember - yeah, there are holes in the heart. Things used to be so permanent. Your friends were life-long. Well, they kinda still are, but you now live in different places, and no matter now close you feel - the visits don't come because "it's always something"...and pretty soon twenty years have passed...
Yes. The telling, the lying, the leaving, the hurting. All of it. I get all of it.
I'm still not sure if I'm ok with that or not.
You are Grade A, baby. All the way.
I think this is one of the MANY reasons I love you. You are the only person I've ever met who gets it. And you express it much better than I ever could. I just whine a lot and pout in the corner.
PS. You're stuck with my ass no matter what time zone we end up in. Like it or not. My heart will always be set to MrLady Standard Time.
I lived in 12 house that I can remember, in 4 states. 17 schools. as an adult, I've lived in 10 more homes, most in one city in an effort to give my kids a more stable life.
Somewhere along the way, I learned not to get too close. To take part ( oh, I join things, I volunteer, I help neighbors, I host parties) and yet never become part of. It took me until well into my 30's to realize I had learned this. I used to think all the joining and doing would result in friends, eventually. I finally had to concede that it never worked. I give off some sort of vibe that says to not call me for coffee sometime. I am not disliked, but somehow, not included. Nobody tells me the band parents usually go to IHOP after those early morning drop offs even though they are awfully glad I find the time to help carpool to every local competition and was able to do all the driving to and from the seamstress in the next county making the color guard costumes.
I'm sure it was a coping thing as A kid. I wish I knew how to fix it. I'm 46 and never had a best friend. Or even a long term friend that is really more than an aquaintance.
I'm a hot dog - snout, lips and asses. And PS: Everyone loves you.
I moved a lot when I was a kid. My mom married four times, my dad, the cop, the fireman, the shipping magnate. I lived in a cinderblock apartment, a 100-year old Spanish house, a suburban split-level Brady Bunch tract home, a shack on a creek and a 70-foot fucking sailboat that no one knew how to sail. I turned out to be a really interesting person.
So are you. And your kids will be too. xo
Connections... that's what it's all about. The ones with staying power are the ones that would have been there anyway.
New beginnings are good, but staying for the sake of staying leads to resentment... of something, everything. You have to find that place to call home, where you don't want/need to leave... build something there.
And you are an amazing friend. FYI. It's not something you know how to do, it's something people want to do with you, every time it's different, new... and with how amazing you are, you make it easy for people to love you.
@Jim You soooo should! My boys would also like to be in on that action!
Oh, sugar.
I am an avowed go-er who has adapted and become a stay-er for a time for the benefit of my children.
You are a stay--er forced to live in a go-er's body and that is just unfair.
I get sentimental on the anniversary of my last move too. It's HARD! It took me a long time (a long time) to realize I could create a happy, connected life in my new home while missing, loving and being connected to the "old." I do think you are right...your family will be richer for it.
I've been enjoying your blog. :)
But you can. And you do. And you will continue to.
Moving is hard. Moving is good. Staying your whole life in one place is overrated. It makes you insulated in ways that you literally cannot imagine, because you can't know any different.
Change makes you stronger, and better and more interesting. Where you are from matters far less than where you are going.
And I consider you a friend.
This makes me sad.
Having just moved to Denver and left behind everything that had made me me and all the people I had come to love, I so feel this post. And now that we're thinking of moving again, I feel it even more. You put it so beautifully. And so sadly.
This makes me sad and anxious for you. Also for me, in the potential that we may move. Also maybe a teensy bit hopeful that the move could be near you, though I am almost afraid to hope for what would require the aligning of many many stars.
In good news, though, I FINALLY got the subscription to your new blog feed to work, so you are back in my reader! YAY!
Wow. Perfection.
Steph
I feel that way about people I worked with for 20 years. You think they are your FRIENDS, until you no longer work there. Its like moving or even a divorce. You realize their lives go on without you.
As your writing is wont to be, this is thoughtful and poignant and more than a little sad. Especially "it's just a matter of time before you're just someone we're going to have to remember," which is just... damn.
That said: I call bullshit on the last. From what I can see, you haven't lost your ability to build real, good, and lasting friendships. You did in Denver. You did in Canada. And you (and they) can and will again.
I have been reading you for awhile now and just want to say that I love how you put things. You say things so beautifully and express it all so perfectly, but in a unique voice that is clearly not contrived or self-aware. It is honestly so satisfying and comforting to read.
This post really hit home. I have moved a ton and my older son, at age four, has already lived in as many homes. We are possibly moving to home number 5 later this year...in another country.
It feels normal to me, but I feel sad and scared for my kids.
And I totally know the feeling Nil was talking about: I have always been involved, but recently started realizing that I never felt 'included' and never stayed connected to the Group the way everyone else did....not a good feeling.
In any event, I think I owe you $40 and can skip my therapy appointment this week. ;)
But seriously, thanks for writing honestly in such a beautiful and brutal way.
The next time they will ask you the question: Where are you from ?. Tell them you're an alien from the outer space. Haha
My husband and I were both raised in Oklahoma and we both had the intention of leaving as soon as we finished school. It didn't happen for a really long time. Moving to a new state was something we just talked about doing and it started to look like it was all we were ever going to do on the subject. March of this year I said yes to a job offer that took us a whopping 6hrs away to the "big city" of KCMO. We finally did it. And we're happy.
But we haven't made any real friends. I think it's like dating which was something I was never any good at any way (Chris and were together after that first date, it just was what it was/is). We don't go to church (we've been asked by many couples...conversation killer...that one). My friends are on the internet. I'm OK with that (for now).
We have pockets in our souls, I used to think they had to be filled a certain way, but that's just shit. Each day and each face are a chance, sometimes they earn space in our pockets, other times they don't. I just try to make sure our girls know that within our little pack, we have love and imagination enough to fill much larger spaces than our pockets.