- Posted September 9, 2013 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
Where is my home?
Home is Where you are Loved
- nsaidi, CNN iReport producer
Being a “military brat” meant that life was never the same for more than a minute. There was never the place to put little marks on the door showing the inches of life passing by. I have no idea how tall I was on any given birthday or the name of half my teachers because they changed so often. I used to hate the first day of class at any given school because I was always the new girl. In the eighth grade I changed schools three times before the year was out.
Where is home? I went to my birth place once, Fort Walton Beach Air Force Base. They of course won’t let me on base now that I’m all grown up.
Sometimes I want to try and reason with the guards at the gate and make them understand… I’m still one of them. A lifetime of moving here and there, of giving up all your friends, of not having holidays with grandparents or even knowing your cousins; yet all I have is a photo of the sign leading into the place I was born.
I went to my grandparent’s home and was a stranger among strangers. No matter how I seek to find a connection to the cousins who barely know my name, its lost to distance that separated our childhoods. I remember very few fleeting faces of friends who shared a moment in the migration of my life. There are no high school reunions or invitations to school chums weddings or watching our children grow up together. I have wondered all my life what it must feel like to be a part of a community where your grandma knew my grandma and the land you stand on belonged to your family for generations.
Thanks to Ancestory.com I went on a little journey of my life. I followed my grandparents and great grandparents and even my great – great grandparents migrations. Somewhere along the way I found pieces of myself. There are many things I have missed in life because of these journeys and yet there are also many valuable things found being a military brat.
Because of my father’s career I have travelled the world and seen things the majority of American’s will never see. The wanderlust tugs at me and I must go. I am home when I am with my international family sitting on the Pyramids of Giza eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or when I am in Pakistan enjoying chai and laughing with my Pakistani family there. I am home when I go through immigration and thank God for the generations of Irish immigrants who brought our family to America so long ago.
The question is so big.. where is home? It is the road that leads from Ohio to West Virginia and back again. It’s coming into the Greenbrier Valley and letting the cares of city life slip away while you watch the sunset from the front porch. Home is taking the road north again, it’s going into the office and seeing my co-worker after a long weekend away. Home is shopping with my daughter and sharing our morning together.
Home is curling up on the couch with my husband of over forty years or waking up at dawn to the sound of my granddaughter wanting me to come see the morning glories with her. Home is many things, it’s the quiet place where you listen to the sounds of nature or sit alone with the presence of God.
Home is where you are loved.