There is nothing like returning
to a place that remains unchanged
to find the ways in which
you yourself have altered.
- Nelson Mandela (1918 - )
After almost five years of living in Lexington, my family still often forgets that my hometown is no longer the place I call home.
The latest example: A casual phone message from my mother on Saturday morning, informing me of the restaurant where we'd be meeting at for my sister's birthday dinner in Cincinnati. Just the name of a chain restaurant in Cincinnati. With multiple locations throughout the city. And to my limited, five year old knowledge of restaurants located in Cincinnati, not a single one of the locations of this chain restaurant was anywhere near my parent's home.
Five phone calls to cell phones later, I find out I was wrong. There is most certainly one of these chain restaurants near my parent's home - how silly am I to have to ask? They question me with the tone of their voice.
And then the old frustration of being misunderstood wells up in me again. Let me try and explain. Yet I feel that I may not need to try too hard, as I know many others have had a similar experience.
I am the only person in my immediate family to have ever established a life outside of Cincinnati. And the distance from all my family members has always brought forward mixed feelings - sad because they aren't a neighborhood away anymore, but they are just a phone call away - but also relieved that they aren't a neighborhood away. In Lexington, I could establish my identity on my own. I am not constantly put into the "Frank family context" of personalities by people I interact with, as would so often happen in Cincinnati. I am taken at face value as me, just me, by acquaintances and friends in KY.
In short, these past five years have been extremely transformative for me. And I feel like I know who I am, what I want out of life, and where I'm headed. I'm excited. A lot of my life right now is in transition, which is scary, but I am ultimately excited about it all.
On the other hand, as the oldest of four children, I struggle with feelings of guilt at leaving Cincinnati and my three younger siblings behind. I so want to be a part of their lives - but I am reminded of the idea of our "selfish 20's" - the need to focus on ourselves in order to discover who we are - and now that all four of us are in our 20's (well, I have 11 months left . . .), that they, too, need that time on their own, as I needed these past few years.
So while I like Nelson Mandela's quote above - about "returning to a place that remains unchanged" - I think it's much more complicated than that, when I go home to my family in Cincinnati. They have changed. I often forget this. I need to remember it more. I have changed, too. How can I show them? The idea of "our family" is the tricky part - is that the part that Mr. Mandela could be referring to? Is it because we need anchors in our lives - like a family identity - yet it ultimately causes so many problems, misunderstandings for us? This family identity can be a scary thing to change, if it does serve the purpose of an anchor in our lives.
So I go home, with a tinge of dread, but also a heart full of love for my family. Dread, because I wonder if I can find the compassion to be misunderstood, and even further, if I can be patient to learn what has changed in their lives, and try to explain what has changed in my own life since the last time I have visited.
sf
After almost five years of living in Lexington, my family still often forgets that my hometown is no longer the place I call home.
The latest example: A casual phone message from my mother on Saturday morning, informing me of the restaurant where we'd be meeting at for my sister's birthday dinner in Cincinnati. Just the name of a chain restaurant in Cincinnati. With multiple locations throughout the city. And to my limited, five year old knowledge of restaurants located in Cincinnati, not a single one of the locations of this chain restaurant was anywhere near my parent's home.
Five phone calls to cell phones later, I find out I was wrong. There is most certainly one of these chain restaurants near my parent's home - how silly am I to have to ask? They question me with the tone of their voice.
And then the old frustration of being misunderstood wells up in me again. Let me try and explain. Yet I feel that I may not need to try too hard, as I know many others have had a similar experience.
I am the only person in my immediate family to have ever established a life outside of Cincinnati. And the distance from all my family members has always brought forward mixed feelings - sad because they aren't a neighborhood away anymore, but they are just a phone call away - but also relieved that they aren't a neighborhood away. In Lexington, I could establish my identity on my own. I am not constantly put into the "Frank family context" of personalities by people I interact with, as would so often happen in Cincinnati. I am taken at face value as me, just me, by acquaintances and friends in KY.
In short, these past five years have been extremely transformative for me. And I feel like I know who I am, what I want out of life, and where I'm headed. I'm excited. A lot of my life right now is in transition, which is scary, but I am ultimately excited about it all.
On the other hand, as the oldest of four children, I struggle with feelings of guilt at leaving Cincinnati and my three younger siblings behind. I so want to be a part of their lives - but I am reminded of the idea of our "selfish 20's" - the need to focus on ourselves in order to discover who we are - and now that all four of us are in our 20's (well, I have 11 months left . . .), that they, too, need that time on their own, as I needed these past few years.
So while I like Nelson Mandela's quote above - about "returning to a place that remains unchanged" - I think it's much more complicated than that, when I go home to my family in Cincinnati. They have changed. I often forget this. I need to remember it more. I have changed, too. How can I show them? The idea of "our family" is the tricky part - is that the part that Mr. Mandela could be referring to? Is it because we need anchors in our lives - like a family identity - yet it ultimately causes so many problems, misunderstandings for us? This family identity can be a scary thing to change, if it does serve the purpose of an anchor in our lives.
So I go home, with a tinge of dread, but also a heart full of love for my family. Dread, because I wonder if I can find the compassion to be misunderstood, and even further, if I can be patient to learn what has changed in their lives, and try to explain what has changed in my own life since the last time I have visited.
sf
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