Outside my window, there are hundreds of cacti that greet me every morning. Instead of green plush grass wiggling through my barefoot toes, I put on shoes to walk across the hundreds of small rocks of gravel that cover my front yard. Outside the sand particles grit between my teeth and I smell a combination of chemicals and concrete from the new construction around my home. I hear the crunch of the rocks underneath me and and look up at trees that look a little skeletal, the limbs trying to muster some strength to stand upright. I heave a big sigh and understand I am not vacationing in Phoenix, I live here now.
It is a funny thing, moving. When you are in the midst of it, you are organizing, packing all the years of your life away into boxes, ready to settle your life somewhere else. As soon as you reach your destination, you are ready to unpack your life and start fresh. After this activity, it starts to sink in, you are miles away from the only place you called home. You start exploring the city, looking for the familiar, wanting the landmarks to exist in the new place you are calling home. I found an unlikely spot, the local IHOP. I got so excited, I made the husband take me there, reminiscing about all the times we enjoyed with family and friends at any given Texas IHOP.
This one familiarity caused an entire avalanche of emotions. I realized I could find a few tangible places to remind me of home, but then what? The problem with moving, especially in your mid-thirties, is all the history you leave behind with what you called home. You leave behind friends that you have known for years, restaurants that you call a Friday night favorite, and the hair stylist that knows your hair better than you do. You have to start over, inserting yourself in other people’s history, preying on restaurants to call your own, trying to find that one person who will at least attempt to learn your hair. Unlike your twenties, these things are not as fun. You are unwilling to be as patient and crave immediate results. If the restaurant isn’t as good as one back home, you feel a pang and tell whomever is willing to listen that there are so many good restaurants back in your hometown. If you meet a new person and things don’t click, you call and complain to your old friends at home about how different people are in this new place. You compare everything to back home.
I don’t want to overdramatize my predicament. Since we have moved to Phoenix, we’ve encountered some beautiful mountains, kind people, and found a great home to build some new roots. This feeling of displacement is probably temporary. It will get better. I know it will take time to form some history. It is the anticipation for that history to happen, the streets to look familiar, and looking at the cacti as a welcome sight that I keep waiting for.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Nice thought
understand home sick
I miss my friend from india
it will be hard to find childhood friend
keep in touch with your old friend in Texas
Sunil Bhai,
Thanks for taking the time to read my post. You had such a BIG move when coming from India to the United States. I am certain it is still hard, wondering where your friends are and all of the other connections you made while there. Your right, keeping in touch is the best way to preserve relationships.
I think you capture something universal here. Moving is walking away. From people and places and memories. And this is so hard. I think it is helpful to realize that walking away is also walking toward. Toward great, new people and places and memories. Acknowledging the potentially beautiful hues of the unknown does not make moving painless, but I think it eliminates some of the sting of leaving the unknown.
Great post.
Ms. Rowley,
First, I am so flattered that you took the time out to read and comment on my entry. I agree with your sentiment. Moving is something we all experience, the emotions of excitement, sadness, and ambivalence meshing together. Hope you keep reading future posts!
And I meant ‘leaving the known.’ Apologies… have been up since 5:30 with Baby and my brain is not operating properly 🙂
No apologies necessary. I understand baby brain all too well!
I’ve learned to love the outstretched arms of the saguaro. Eventually, the desert will charm you, too! I’m glad to have you here in Phoenix, Rudri. You are a blessing.
Appreciate the shout out. My Phoenix transition has certainly been smoother because of you. Thanks again, friend!
Good post, i can relate to you as I have just moved to KY, where it snows all the time and the sun never comes up…growing up in TX, I loved TEX-MEX food, and the MEX food they have here is not at all what we have in TX. People at work just think im a spoiled texan, but i think the first step is to accept the change and go with the flow…
Hope your stay in KY is going well. Thanks for the nice compliment! Congrats on your job. Take care, Rudri
Hi Rudri,
Beautifully written, I can totally relate to you since I have moved here from India, NY and LV. It will get better as time passes. I believe that more than a place or geographic location its the people that makes place more like home. Once you visit Texas and come back to AZ, homesickness will lessen.
Thanks D. People do make the place, geography is only secondary. I am lucky to have a great friend like you in my life.
I feel the sameway about you.
” …inserting yourself into other people’s histories…”
Brilliant line.
And your moving experience was just as hard for me. Miss you guys.