Missing home

When I say that I miss home, I refer to Chicago the most. That is where I have spent most of my time as a reasoning being. Even though I spent my childhood in Colombian, most of my forming years were spent in the U.S.

While that makes me very American in some of my thinking and the way I approach things, I never forget my heritage or where I come from. When I came home every night from school, I remember that Colombian food was always on the table. The weekend barbecues always had Colombian music playing in the background, and it was even here in the U.S. that my Mom taught me how to really dance Salsa and Merengue.

I am Colombian, that is where my roots are and it has been five years since I have been back to my country.

The first time I took a trip back I had to go visit the grave of my best friend who died in a tragic car accident. The last time I took a trip down, my Grandpa was sick… this time he is no longer with us and I will most likely go visit his grave. That was one of my biggest fears about going back, that people would have changed so much or just not be with us anymore.

Life is about that, it is about that change. Two of my closest friends are pregnant right now and the cycle of life begins once again. Our families seem to shrink and grow with every passing year, and life continues its course.

I am not nostalgic, I am very excited about the trip I am about to take to Colombia in the coming months. I am visiting my country of origin with my wife, someone that happens to be from the same city I am from, someone that I met here in North America but with the same South American roots I have. I get to meet her family for the first time and make my family instantly double.

I admire the people that move away and come back to the place they were born, I even admire those that stay right where they started. I feel a kinship with those that have moved away and had to adopt other ways of living, because it is not an easy thing to do. The world alien bothered me at first when I moved to the U.S. but slowly but surely it felt very fitting to what I experienced when I got here. I am not an American and not an alien anymore, but I still hold my days as a non English speaker close to my heart.

Even though Kansas City is slowly becoming our new home faster than any other place I have been, I still say I am from Chicago or Colombia. Having great friends come into my life make that transition to calling this place home a lot easier… at the same time harder to leave if we ever chose to do that in our (my – my wife thinks she is a penguin) quest to live with no snow.

I am missing home, I am missing Colombia, partly because my little escape place has been taken way… but mostly because I cannot way to be back there to see so many people that I have not seen in a long time… it has been more than 15 years since I saw some of my classmates… even 20 when you count the grade school ones.

9 comments on “Missing home

  1. You little son of a bitch ball! Why you don’t you just go HOME? That’s your HOME! Are you too good for your home? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS BALL!

    ~Happy Gilmore

  2. I can totally relate with you. Our family moved from Guatemala to America when I was only 2, so I don’t remember much anything from my country. I’ve been back once when I was 13 and I think it’s time to visit again. Unfortunately I didn’t keep in touch with family there, but I’m hoping when I do return for a visit that upon leaving I will keep in touch with them much better. When we moved to America our destination was California, I grew up there and short of 5 years (2 in Guatemala, and 3 in England) California has been my home. Moving to England I went through that whole culture shock/transition period, it was difficult but hey i got through it. I came to like England very much and have plans of making it my permanent home. Sorry for rattling on, lol. But I just thought I’d share a bit and let you know, that I can relate, anyway. Have a fantastic time when visiting Columbia! Take care, Bye!

  3. when I went back after 10 years I didn’t feel at home anymore. a lot has changed and most people I knew moved away. I met up with some friends and showed my kid my old city and that’s about it.

  4. Work hard to bridge the gaps in lifestyle and geography; for as you get older, the more you will need the people you remember when you were young. Be kind to your sibblings, they are your best link to the past, and are most likely to stick with you in the future.

  5. It all depends on your personal experience. It makes me remember a song by Alberto Cortez that says “No soy de aqui, ni soy de alla.” — That’s how I feel sometimes.

    Some days I miss Colombia terribly, and I wonder if I should be there. Other times I try my best to call any place where I am HOME. I’ve been in too many different places and exposed to different cultures. What makes me happy is that I never lose my Colombian identity.

    And I will always think of Colombia as my home. Not only because I was born there, but because everything I do, I do it with a Colombian heart.

  6. I know how you feel. I do go home to Canada once a year. I have created a home, a life here. As long as I can go home to Canada to get my “fix” I’m good.

  7. I have to admit that once I left Hawaii for college, it was never quite the same coming back — and even when I moved back from 2002 – 2005. My friends had moved on and even though we hung out, it was no where near as often as before, almost like they forgot I was really there.

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