I caught my best friend on Saturday. We went for brunch – sandwiches and juice at a homemade cafe. Very delicious. And it was only for a couple of hours but it was brilliant to catch up with her. I am so, so glad that she still considers me a friend. I was so worried about her outgrowing me, but in those few hours it was as if we had only seen each other yesterday, as if there hadn’t been months of silence. Ok, there were a couple of awkward moments. But mostly it was just great. I felt relaxed and happy, which is such a rare and precious feeling at the moment.
One interesting thing we discussed was our classmates from high school and where they are now. It is amazing how far people don’t go from home. Even my sister is living right next door to our parents really. And even I although I talk big about wanting to live abroad, as I apply for jobs I find myself seeking ones close to my parents location. When I was younger I didn’t get on with my parents, and I found being home made me feel trapped. I had my head in the clouds – dreaming of going far away, dreaming of different places where it won’t matter if I’m the odd one out, because it would be expected. There is still a part of me that thinks like that. I do still want to travel. But as I get older my relationship with my parents gets better and I like going home, even if it is frustrating in some ways. I also become more aware of my parents aging, and I think about how horrible it was to be so far away from my grandmother when she died, and how little closure there is when you can’t be there, and I don’t want that. I am aware of my parents aging and I also want to be there for them as they do so, to make the most of it. Which is terribly morbid, isn’t it? It feels terrible to think like this – it feels uncomfortable and scary to think of that inevitable end. Yet, time passes so quickly.
I am also aware that there is a part of me that needs to be close to home, that actually doesn’t cope so well with independence. In many ways I struggle with change and I do have a lot of anxiety around it. I found immigrating to the UK hard, I found spending a year abroad in Malaysia hard. There is a part of me that wants the excitement and learning experience of going abroad. I do still want that feeling I had in Malaysia, or whenever I travel – of it not mattering what mistakes you make, because it won’t last, it won’t be forever. It will be a year, two years. Not long. Not like immigrating, where every mistake, everything that makes you stand out, makes you feel desperately embarrassed and frustrated with yourself. That’s what you have to remember when you feel scared of travelling, it could always be immigrating. At least there is an expiry date. At least, that is how it is for me.
I also look at the locations of the companies I apply to and seek out Cape Town, South Africa in them and dream of going back and reconnecting with whatever it was I lost when we immigrated away from SA. Then the fear hits of never being able to reconnect, and I shy away. I want to go there, I tell myself, but would I really have that much courage?
Ultimately though, I just find myself wanting the comfort and familiarity of being close to home. Home not as in a place, I want to clarify. Not the UK. I still feel alienated from this country, uncomfortable calling it my home. But home as in my parents’ house, my parents, my sister, my cat, my old room and my old things. I can understand sticking close to home. Anyway, I can at least be grateful that when we immigrated my father chose a lovely area of the UK to move us too. There could be worse places to be tied to.
It feels presumptuous to talk of travelling already though, when I don’t have work yet. I feel naughty looking at the location pages of company websites and letting my mind wonder. It feels wrong to think of the future like this, as if you really have that much power over it, as if it isn’t like anything could happen next.