Tag Archives: home

01/2/12

Hello and Goodbye

It’s the start of a new year, which calls for a moment of reflection of who I am and how far I’ve come – especially with the advent of my departure to Norway drawing closer every day. The fact that I’ve been planning this adventure for over a year and that I’m about to embark on it all on my own in just a couple of weeks is surreal. Classes in Norway. Backpacking through Europe. Field Research in Tanzania. I’m about to leave everything I know behind to explore what is unknown all on my own. The idea is exciting and terrifying at the same time. But if I think about it, anything worthwhile I have ever done or accomplished in my life has felt the same way: exciting and terrifying. This year-long exchange is no different.

When you know that you’re going to be leaving home, you start to appreciate everything that you have so much more. For me, it was a number of things: my favourite pair of shoes, being woken up to my parents chatting downstairs during breakfast, the jingling of my dog’s collar – even my brother’s tendency to tell me interesting facts and tidbits at inconvenient times. Even the routine of transiting to UBC or heading off the work and taking in the soothing smell of pool chlorine seemed all the more precious to me. I started to count ‘lasts’ in the latter months of 2011: last Imagine Day, last day of teaching swimming lessons, last Halloween, last day of classes, last time I’ll see my friends until next year. All of these little things in my ordinary life seemed extraordinary and I realized just how much everyone I’ve met and everything I’ve experienced have shaped me to be the person I am today. And as this person, I will grow to change even more with this new adventure.

I have never left home on my own for so long in my life. Two weeks were the longest I’ve been away just from my family. I feel like nothing more than a coddled child if I had to be perfectly honest. This exchange, if anything, will force me to grow up very quickly. I have had days where I would curl myself up under my bed covers because I was afraid of taking such a big leap out of the comforts of bubble called home. Often I feel like I know nothing and would have nothing to offer when I would have the opportunity to meet and work with people abroad. But then I stop myself to think about what I do know and what I have experienced. I think about the place that has shaped me and the wonderful people that I have met. And then I realize that I have nothing to be afraid of. Every person has different experiences that have shaped their identities and I have mine. No, I have not travelled extensively. But I’m about to. All I can do is offer the best of myself and that’s nothing to feel inadequate about – I should in fact be proud of it.

This coming year will not always be easy – even more so because I will be mostly on my own. And yes, I will feel small and ignorant at times. But I am willing to trip and fall over and over again in order to listen, observe, and learn. If I lose confidence in myself, I will remember that I chose to step outside my bubble and to take part in this exchange. By the end of this journey, I will have left behind new friends and new places I would have once called home. I will be a different person when I come back home to everything and everyone I know and love. So even though I might be scared of such a drastic change, I welcome it with open arms. I will be brave and step outside my bubble. I will get on that plane on my own. I will remember that I am following my dreams and living my passion. And then I will smile with my head held high.

11/6/11

Home, yet homesick.

Nowadays, I wake up in one of two ways: I wake up wanting to hop on a plane to Norway that very morning or wake up being utterly terrified of leaving. Today, I was more of the latter.
I had my eyes closed, even though I had been awake for awhile, just listening to the sounds of the house: my mom washing dishes downstairs, my dad and brother chatting in the kitchen, the bell-like jingling of my dog’s collar as she explored the house – I realized in that very instant that in a little over two months, I wouldn’t wake to these familiar sounds. Suddenly, images of myself alone on the plane landing into Oslo crept into my head. At that moment, the mere thought of stepping away from everything I’ve ever known into cold, wide abyss called the unknown terrified me. I was reminded just how precious every day at home was to me; the thought never leaves my mind with my flight date drawing nearer.
When my mom fusses or nags over me, I let her without grumbling. And when I do get annoyed, I say it out loud and we end up laughing over it. I savour every bite of homecooked food, feeling my mother’s love inch down my throat to my stomach.
When my brother barges into the room like Kramer from Seinfeld, I let him babble. I retort back with amused comments and keeps going on and on about what he loves most: talking about things he’s read or heard about online (mostly to do along the lines of video games, movies, and technology).
When my dad asks the rare question or comment to me, I answer and make small talk. We never talk about anything and he’s never been a man of showing his affections in words. But on the days he picks me up from the skytrain station or when he asks me if I’m back after I’ve come back from work for a good hour, I dig deeply into what made him say these things to me. Small talk, routine greetings, and a willingness to fix anything that breaks on me – it’s through these actions that I feel that my dad cares about me. That and what I hear from my mother.
When I hear my bedroom door quietly open and hear the pitter patter of muffled little footsteps on the carpet, I shuffle over in my bed and let my dog snuggle up next to me. I give my dog a big smile when she comes running to the door to greet me when I come home, and balance her on my lap when I’m sitting in front of the computer.
There will be other little things I miss at home: from just sitting silently in the living room on my own with a cup of tea to walking around my neighbourhood to take in the fresh air. So here I am – at home but yet already homesick – before I’ve even said my good-byes.
One year is a long time.