Three years ago, my parents moved my baby sister and I
out of our lovely two-story home in Woodinville, Washington and brought us to sunny
Atherton, California. At first, I hated
it, but after three years of living there I learned to love the warm weather
and wonderful coastal cities. Then, out
of nowhere, my folks dropped another bomb and this time a much bigger one. We were
moving to France and ultimately England. At first it didn’t seem real. I
thought of it as a joke, but then things became very real, very fast. From then on, I was scared. The day we first arrived in France, my life
was over. I was depressed. I hated the place we lived, but, in the end, it made
me a stronger and more capable person.
The plane bumped and jittered as it first touched down on
the barren tarmac. The fasten seatbelt sign dinged off and the cabin came alive
with groggy bodies. I dimly walked through the airport and stepped out into the
cold to be received by the waiting car.
I rolled down my window and felt the cold air on my face, but I was too
absorbed inside myself to even notice the amazing city around me. I overlooked
the hustle and bustle of evening life, the rich aroma of coffee that wafted out
of an open café door, the foreign language all the people spoke with such
elegance. Even the historic buildings and snow-capped Alps were all invisible
to me. Instead of sitting in awe of these marvels, I rolled up the window and
fell asleep content to wallow in my misery for a while longer. Even my dreams seemed to taunt me with
visions of home and memories of times past.
I awoke sometime later in yet another strange and mysterious world. The car was stopped in an icy driveway; Moonlight
splashed on the ground giving it a milky appearance. The ice seemed to be alive
constantly drifting in and out of shadow, as if it where a living breathing
being. I opened the car door and the
cold almost knocked me over, as if I’d hit a brick wall. It made my skin tingle,
almost like pin pricks. I took a step
and almost fell flat on my face as I skidded my way towards a drab looking
house where I was to live for the next six months
It appeared as a simple two-story log house to me, but
inside it was a luxurious French chalet with furs and fine furniture. Still, my
eyes saw it, but none of it existed. I couldn’t accept that. Yet, for no real
reason at all, I hated that place. Even
though so many amazingly exquisite objects surrounded me, from the furry cow hide
covering the gray slate floor, to the plush leather couch that looked like it
would envelope me if I sat on it. Still,
I shunned them for the simple fact that they were not home. A wooden spiral
staircase wound its way upward. The wood looked worn and polished my many
feet. None of it mattered; none of it
was really there; none of it was home.
As my room, I chose a small loft nestled above the kitchen. It was
tucked away up in the rafters and I felt as if I could escape from all the
drama up there. In one corner, was a small bed draped with a red duvet, but it
only reminded me of how much I missed my own warm bed. In another corner was a desk made of a hard
and rustic looking wood with strange patterns winding their way over its
surface. I solemnly unpacked my meager
possessions and placed them gingerly on the desk; my laptop, a major league
baseball, a camera and a large hunting knife my uncle had given me. These five
things were my little piece of home. There
was a skylight in the slanted roof that was covered by snow, so from up here
the outside world didn’t exist. I liked
that. It made me feel as if no one could touch me; as if I could hide from the
sadness. Overcome with jetlag and
homesickness I climbed in bed and drifted off into a troubled sleep.
I opened my eyes and was greeted by a brilliant blue sky,
and sun had melted away last nights dusting of snow. I rose and began carefully
climbing down the ladder made of soft pine to the kitchen. The stone floor was cold to the touch and
sent a shiver up my spine. No one else
was awake, so I made myself some breakfast, sat down and let my mind wonder
wherever it would go. The fresh French pastries my dad had bought on the way
from the airport were delicious, but I didn’t dare acknowledge that. As the sun appeared over the snow-covered
mountains, I decided to go for a walk. I
grabbed my coat and stepped outside into a world of frost and icicles. The
reflections from the sunlight blinded me at first and made my eyes sting. The
bitter cold made my chest hurt with each inhalation and the clouds made by my
breath froze onto things. Though I was
surrounded by boundless icy wonder, it still took me months to realize it was
there.
April came, four months since we first landed. I finally came to terms with my new reality.
Running through the crystalline forest everyday helped me feel better about
myself, as exercise always does. I began
spending a lot of time taking pictures of the small, yet, beautiful winter
birds. Their colors were amazingly contrasted against the wintery background. There
were so many species that I had never seen before and I loved cataloging them,
finding their foreign names, and learning their songs. I learned things about myself I never knew
before. I learned how to deal with tremendous amounts of change; through my
solitary 6-mile runs in the forest that started out as an escape, I discovered
running as a gift to help me cope with stress and encourage me to be more
independent. Most of all I learned ways
of being resilient when times get tough.
I learned I was capable of anything, if I set my mind to it. I still was bitterly homesick, but I Skyped
my friends Isaiah and Jeremy and they brought me the news from back home.
A part of me was afraid that if we went back home all my
friends would have forgotten me; that they’d throw aside past memories. I
overcame the depression that was consuming me with my running and pursuit of
being out in nature. I started to appreciate were we lived and what my new home
had to offer. Yes, my parents moved me across the world. Yes, I missed my
friends bitterly. But my eyes had
finally opened and I was willing to see and enjoy the world around me and ultimately
became a stronger person because of these things. I remember watching the first drops of water
drip off an icicle and feeling warm for the first time in months.
