There is only one place that I have truly considered home
throughout my lifetime. I have lived in several different places, but I know
that home will always be the house in which I spent my childhood. It is
strange, now that I have finally moved further than an hour away, I find myself
referring to "home" more and more often. Although, the further and
further I get, the more ambiguous it becomes. When you're in the same city, it
refers to the specific house; when you're outside of the city it refers to the
city itself; when you're out of the state, it refers to the state. Now, though,
being out of the country, I find "home" to mean the United States. I
find this strange simply because I have always had an inkling that there was
Swedish-ness (as my brother so eloquently refers to it) in me. That is to say,
having been born in Sweden to a Swedish father, but being raised in the US, I
had always been confused as to where I could honestly say I came from. Now
however, it has been made painstakingly clear that I am American.
In
America I was unique in that I was born elsewhere and came to the states, and I
could speak another language. This was what caused me trouble. I knew very few
people that were in the same situation as me, and I didn't know what that meant
for my origins. In Sweden, however, everyone is from somewhere else, or is
bilingual, and being from somewhere usually means that they were born and
raised there, as opposed to "three generations past, my family moved here
from [country]." I am no longer confused about my origins. And this
confuses me. I am certainly proud of my Swedish heritage, but as of right now,
the extent of my Swedish-ness simply lies in my language skills, and my
citizenship. The certainty of my American-ness is slowly creeping into my head,
and I am realizing that America is where my roots are and where my heart goes
when thinking of "home."
The
real confusion comes when I realize that I haven't quite started missing home
as much as I should. Maybe I'm still riding the excitement of the move. Of
course I miss the people, and that's what home really is all about, but my mind
hasn't quite grasped the concept and I am not there yet. My mind does wander to
home and the people there, but it wanders more to my future in Sweden and the
things that I have to look forward to. The fulfillment of a dream that I have
long nurtured seems to hold more weight than that of the friendships that I am
putting on hold, but I know that every single one of the people that I grew close
to at home will always be those to whom I can turn. The comfort that I find in
the security of my past no doubt allows to me look upon the uncertainty of my
future with unwavering confidence, despite my fears and trepidations.
I don't
miss home more than I do because I haven't really left it yet. My friends and
family at home are helping me get through any troubles that I am having,
whether they know it or not, and home is all about keeping people close to you
that can help you when you need it. I will always have someone to bring me
"home."
"In Sweden, however, everyone is from somewhere else, or is bilingual, and being from somewhere usually means that they were born and raised there, as opposed to "three ...."
ReplyDeleteI have to argue with this. i always found most Swedes were from Sweden for several generations, not from somewhere else like in US.
That is true. There are definitely a lot of families that have been here for several generations, but I tend to think that there are still a lot of people that do come from other countries given the size of Europe and the ease of travel. It's much easier to immigrate to Sweden from, say, Germany than a German immigrating to the United States.
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