I always struggle with leaving home because I'm afraid I'll miss something. I'm afraid that I won't be there when my family and close friends really need me. Which is why this Christmas was somewhat of a mixed blessing because it's as if the universe was waiting until I got home so I could be part of it all. This will go down in "The Life of Julie" as by far the most bizarre christmas. I'd like to hear if someone else can top this one...
I had a rather rough last week in Nicaragua and was very much looking forward to getting home. Only I got home and the whole house was a bit crazy. No need to disclose all family secrets but let's just say there was a bit of an emotional tidal wave with a house of four women and my poor father. Then we get a call....
Grandma got run over by a golf cart. The "Grandma got run over by a reindeer" song took on a whole new meaning. The golf cart literally just plowed into my sweet little old grandma as she stood there waiting to get picked up and taken to dinner at another house at her retirement home. I know it had to have been an accident because my grandma is quite a lot like an elderly version of Cindy Lou Who... not even the Grinch himself could be mean to her. And if you're trying to take out old people, you'd want to keep my grandma around the longest- there are plenty other Scrooges who should go first.
So we rushed to the emergency room and spent a fair amount of time over the next 6 days visiting her in the hospital. Truly miraculous, not a single bone was broken- just a gash in her head and a fractured skull. She actually stayed conscious throughout the whole extravaganza. On Christmas day, instead of dinner at Grandma's, we all piled into her hospital room with our Martinelli's sparkling cider in paper cups and Christmas ham on plastic plates. Not a Christmas I'd ever wish to repeat, but considering the circumstances it was quite merry.
The thing is, even before this strange turn of events, Christmas felt a little strange. It's weird to try to wrap my head around California, Texas and Nicaragua all being home. It's weird to be in the house I grew up in and realize just how much I have. It's weird to want to cry after reading the materialism jokes in the Christmas Day comics. I walk into Crate & Barrel and instead of mentally picking all the things I want some day, I leave feeling slightly sick and claustrophobic. I hold a baby at church and I have absolutely no desire to take it home with me. I walk around the neighborhood, passing by expensive houses and just keep thinking the ones in Nicaragua are so much more lovely with the breeze from the open windows and the tropical gardens. Just one week in the States and I already miss Nicaragua and the way of life there. But when I'm in Nicaragua, I miss my family and friends, not to mention the general comforts of the states.
Which raises a whole bunch of strange questions: What exactly is the American dream and why do we want it? Is it something I still want? If I don't actually want it, what does that mean that I want? What will my life look like? How do you define home? Do you ever really feel at home if you have more than one home? I'm on an adventure and I don't want it to stop yet, but will that pass? Do I really seriously think I could live abroad by myself? The answers that pop into my head for all of these questions surprise, excite and scare me all at the same time.
Of three things I am certain: 1) I have an amazing family that will be there for me no matter what, 2) I am becoming a person that I really love and am finally feeling good about life (for the most part), and 3) even if I didn't have those first two, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is Somebody in control who loves me, who wants the best for me and who's got my back. Don't believe me? Ask for details.
Nothing like living abroad, business school application essays, Christmas in a hospital, family drama, cathartic tears and an upcoming best friend's wedding to make you think about things. Hmmm...
No comments:
Post a Comment