Homesickness

I miss the smell of corn, that sweet, earthy aroma of an uncooked corn still covered in its husk that always remind me of summers spent wasting the time away sitting outside, eating cob after cob of corn. I miss last summer, driving with Thuy in the summer heat to Gilroy to that one roadside grocery store we were so excited to find to purchase bagfuls of freshly picked corn…and the drive back, relishing in the delight of surprising our families with these bags of gold.

I miss hot summery nights spent gossiping with old friends back home in the dry heat of the Bay Area…spontaneous drives out to the beach…spending hours in the refuge of air-conditioned malls…those rare, quiet walks through Berkeley, past Strawberry Creek to the comfort of my tiny apartment. I miss home and the people that give home its meaning and depth of attachment.

I am homesick, the type that is suddenly felt on a bus ride through terrain that reminds me of the Bay Area or by listening to a song that stirs up old memories of sites and places and people that I love.

Sometimes I see something here and think, “___ would sure love that” or “Gosh, if only ___ was here with me to experience this. ___ would love it!” But then I turn around and it’s just me and my family. Not to diminish my fondness for my family here, but it’s not the same. I can’t share my snark and expect them to understand. I can’t point out cultural curiosities to them and have them laugh the same way I would. So, every new curiosity or interesting experience I keep locked up in my memory, in anticipation for my return home to share with the people who I know would appreciate these stories the most.

I always thought I had it in me to drop everything and just jet off to a faraway land and start over. That idea to start anew somewhere else was so alluring to me. I don’t know if this idea is a creation of a subconscious desire to escape from something (I don’t know what) in my present life, but that allure has always been so strong. Until now. Now that I am in a faraway country, away from the comfort of the world I am accustomed to, that romanticized image in my mind has slowly dissipated in the two month span I have been here.

Because, if there is anything I have learned in the past year, it’s how much my emotional health, my definition of personal contentment is intertwined with the support of the people around me--my biggest cheerleaders even through the worst of matches. I can’t be far from these people long to feel a twinge of emptiness. To not joke around with my closest friends, to not feel the safety of my dad’s embrace, to not be amused by my siblings’ quirks, to not hear the laughter of my little cousin…feels like an important part of myself is missing.

What I have realized here is that long periods of time spent away from home are not really the ideal for me. I do love travel, even alone, but I’d be lying if I said that traveling without the familiar around me doesn’t get lonely. While travel is often a personal experience, I wish there was a way to carry all the people I love inside my pocket, taking them along with me to the distant corners of the world to share, to laugh, and to exchange confused faces with at all my new travel experiences.

I really miss you guys…and the smell of corn.