I think it is difficult to put in to words how important family has been for me. I have always told people that I was born in a “it takes a village to raise a child” community...where everyone knows everyone and everyone has some responsibility for the life and times of everyone elses children. I love the town where my mom grew up...somewhere behind the junction behind routes 35 and 36...just blocks away from the ocean...down the block from this family, around the corner from that family, just minutes away from their new house, their old house, or the house that <insert old family name here> used to own...I do love being here.
Family this weekend though has been really difficult.
I cannot think about how to summarize the thoughts in my head succinctly...so bear with me while I lay some groundwork.
Many of you know...
I was born in New Jersey, moved to California, back to New Jersey, down to North Carolina, on to Miami, up to St. Louis...graduated from college in North Carolina, moved to Georgia, up to Washington, DC, on to North Carolina and now I have landed back on the West Coast of Florida. I have moved a lot. I learned a lot from all of my moves...the have made me the person I am today, I do not hide that. But moving that much...
...SUCKS...
I moved after first grade, middle of second grade, middle of fourth grade, after sixth grade, middle of ninth grade...not to mention all of the house moves in between. I went to lots of different schools. I constantly had to make new friends. I never found the “forever friends” in school that so many people look back on. This is one of the reasons I (sadly) am complacent about letting friends drift away...letting friendships change...because my entire life I was forced to allow that to happen...because I moved, and in the late 80s and early 90s...we did not have Facebook.
My parents however, grew up in very different circumstances.
My dad was born, raised and lived in Cleveland, Ohio--Lakewood to be exact. His family lived in the same house until well after my dad graduated from high school...and when they moved from Ohio, they lived in the home in Key Biscane, FL that had served as a vacation home for the family. It was not until my dad was near 50 that they decided to pack up and move everything to a foreign location (to him), to a home in Dallas, Texas...closer to my Uncle, their youngest son, Rob.
My mom was born, raised and lived in Oakhurst, New Jersey...the village to raise a child community. My grandmother still, to this day, lives in the same house my mom moved in to when she was in third grade. My aunt and mom shared the back bedroom I am now staying in. The restaurants, shops, stores, everything really remains the same as it was when she left home in 1973 for college. Yeah--the “big box” stores have come up around the mom and pop places...but they are still there. This community has an allegiance to the old time values and reputation of stores that have been standing for 50+ years.
I don’t have this place.
I don’t have a “home I grew up in” with a childhood bedroom that reminds all who enter of a time when books and crafts filled my days (not much has changed) or a childhood room renovated sometime in adolescence when angst and defiance ruled the roost. I have memories of my blue plaid bedroom in South Orange, and even more fond memories of painting my wall in Miami with peace signs, smiley faces and yin yangs. I ALSO my dad cursing me when we had to move out of that rental home and remove the black paint I had used as a background...it was not my fault, he HAD given me permission to paint...and we worked together--paint chips flying all over the room--to scrape that teen angst off the walls...I HATED MIAMI...and I was very verbal about that...I HATED that they uprooted me from my life in North Carolina...and at 13 I didn’t know how else to articulate everything I was thinking and feeling.
Now--I am 28 years old. I have a life of my own. I have a job and a personal budget. I don’t go “home” as often as I should...but I don’t really have a reason to either. I don’t really HAVE a home. I never have. I have frequently said “I grew up at camp--it was the only place in my life constant and consistent from 9-27 years old!” It is true.
What I don’t understand now is why it is such a burden to keep anything in the house that is sentimental to either my brother or myself. Are my parents trying to create a kid-free space...that is unreal...my mother doesn’t understand the meaning of “cut the cord” and she would still take care of us daily if we would let her (I think). So, what is the big deal...you are moving a whole house...your are moving to a 3 bedroom house...my yearbooks and few other trinkets are not going to make or break the move...put them in a closet in the new house for all I care...but I want to feel like I have a “home” to come to...if and when I ever want to come home...the likelihood of that happening is greater too if I feel like there is a piece of me there...even if I never lived there...
I’m just saying....
FOR NOW...
LM
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