Beginning (Again)

Admittedly, I failed at keeping up with my blog, and for that I apologize. I could make a thousand excuses as to why it is so hard for me to keep up with things like this, but instead, I'll just pick up here and hope to do better this time.

This summer I went "home" (if that is even a thing) to watch my sisters finish up a chapter of their lives. They were beautiful, graceful, and proud as they walked down the aisle and across the stage to receive their high school diplomas. I could go on for days about how proud I am of their accomplishments, their characters, and their growth, but I'll go ahead and save that for later.

Now they are moving back to me; coming to the States to stay. For the first time in three years, my family will be in the same continent for more than a month at a time.

While this is one of the most exciting things that I have looked forward to in years, it is also sad and confusing. In a sense, through their move, I lose a part of my identity.

It signals the end of an era.

The end of the time when I can go "home".

The warping of my identity as a foreigner.

Leaving my family two weeks ago should have been the easiest of goodbyes, since our "see you later"s were only for a few weeks. However, of all the times I have said goodbye, I think this time was one of the hardest. It hit me hard that their move means just as much to me as it does to them.

While they are saying goodbye to their friends, routines, jobs, and neighbors, I say goodbye to a country that has become my own, a language I've learned to love, and a lifestyle I have embraced since I was young. I was quite unprepared for the great magnitude of this occasion as it related to me. Sure, I knew that for my sisters and my parents a large transition was just in its beginning stages. What I did not expect in the least was the effect their move would have on me.

I'm not moving countries. I'm not even moving to another state, apartment, or school. Why does their move affect me?

There is simply no way to prepare for the affects that accompanies a change of this magnitude.

No one tells you to process through this before the time comes.

No one warns you that the night you pack to leave a place for possibly the last time, you'll realize what is going on.

No one warns you that I place you only live for a month at a time can grab hold of so much of your heart.

When my family moved after I went to college, they (for the first time in as long as I can remember) began living in an apartment. To be honest, when I went to visit them the first time, I absolutely hated it. It wasn't so much because it didn't have a yard... Or because it was small... Or even because it was on the fifth floor and had a super small elevator.

I hated it because I was not a part of it. Sure, I was in photos around the house, and there was some familiar furniture... But there was no place for "me". No place to call my own. I was no longer a part of their routines. How could I be? I didn't live with them. As illogical as it might be, I was hurt by that, and took it out on my opinion of their apartment, rather than a lack of proper transition to a new stage of life for BOTH myself AND my family.

Regardless of my first impression of their apartment, I shed tears for *MY* loss of their stupid apartment that last night before I left. I shed tears for their family friends that have captured such a sweet place in my heart. I shed tears for a place that was never my home, yet in some way... it is. I shed tears for young kids who will grow up just like me, and have to learn to say goodbye because of my family.

No one warns you how hard it will be to say goodbye to a life you have never really known.

But you know what else no one warns you about? The complete and utter joy and excitement I feel at the chance to show MY new home to my family. They have had four months over the past three years to show me parts of pieces of their new normal. Now for once, I have the tremendous opportunity to reintroduce my parents to the city where the met and fell in love. I have the privilege to show my family a little bit of *MY* new normal.

I'm sure they'll hate my apartment, and in some senses, they will find things that bother them about my new normal. But my hope is that in this new phase of life, as we all transition into our new beginnings, that when this next year comes to a close, that they will feel as deeply for Virginia as I do for Turkey. And that in this time of new normals and repeated beginnings, that we will be able to help each other prepare for the things that maybe we weren't well prepared for the first time.

So here's to new beginnings, fond memories, hard goodbyes, and lifestyle changes. They are hard, they are messy, and they are emotional. But they are the basis of all the best experiences of my life.