This year is finally coming to a close, and while I'm ready to leave this dormitory forever, I'm not completely ready to go straight home either.
It's been an interesting year, perhaps the most interesting I've ever lived and endured. I remember wanting to leave Germany with a propensity like no other as soon as I crossed that stage at graduation. That was my one wish: to return to the place I'd called home the whole time I was with my family and friends in Germany. Maybe that's part of the reason why I don't miss high school as much as everyone else seems to; I was still very attached to Idaho and the friends I had there. I knew that the military would move me around, but I didn't expect it to leave me torn apart between two places: home...and home.
Yet, home, as I've learned, is not so easily defined. At least not for me, not after this year.
Home can be many things. To some it is the place you go back to everyday after school, where you do homework and sleep; To some it is where your family is and the place you can go to anytime you need anything; and for others it's the warmth you feel when you walk in the door. For some it is all of those things, and for others it is none of those things. For me, Idaho was home under the third condition: it was the warmth I felt from the place I'd learned to love. It was the home I wanted to be at the entire time I was in Germany. I had strong connections with friends in Idaho, I had things to look forward to, but most importantly I felt the warmth here. It wasn't until I returned on August 10th that I began to realize, once I stepped out of the terminal, that maybe things had changed more than I realized.
The people I had been waiting to see for two years had changed; they weren't who I remembered, nor who I expected. Most of them appeared to be the same people, but certain aspects had changed within all of them. It wasn't that unsettling to see the changes in all of them as part of me expected it. I think, though, it was the radical changes in some people that I had cared for a lot that became parasite to me. I thought, at the time, I could learn to deal with the changes and accept the different person, but the missing past between us had, indeed, separated many of us. In the end, the infestation of loss corrupted my mind and I ended up severing connections with many of the people I had came back for. Some, in seeing the changes I had made, severed them with me in turn. It hadn't occurred to me, until then, that I was chasing the deceptive hollow facet of home. Once I came to terms with this conclusion, I felt broken and I felt that way for a long time. I can't exactly quantitate the length of time, but I felt like there was something missing in my life. I would write about it and ask various people both from here and from Germany, but their answers never seemed to be the right fit for the gap inside.
I continued with school in this state of mind, wondering what was missing and when I would find it. I'd go to bed at night wanting to be far away from this falsehood, but wondering where I really wanted to be. When I woke up, I'd take steps back in my memory and question why I ended up here without noting the signs. This cycle continued like this everyday, some more vicious than the others, until early December when I realized I'd be seeing my family soon. The following weeks dredged on until it was time to fly to Germany.
I packed up my luggage to see my family again, somewhat relieved to be going back to Germany. With my roommates leaving, this place began to feel lifeless and cold to me, and almost anyplace away from it seemed like a better option. When all was said and done, I got on the plane and went to Germany and contemplated many things on the way back. Mainly, I wondered if I wanted to come back to college in Idaho after all of the events that had happened in the first semester. As I reached German airspace, though, I let go of these thoughts, reminding myself to think about and voice them before it was too late.
With that, I returned to where I had started, but I knew much had changed here too. I came back to my parents, the people I missed more than anyone else since I left to college over 5000 miles away. It was somewhat awkward to see them again after four and half months, but as soon as I stepped out of the terminal I felt the warmth I'd been waiting to feel. It was the warmth of family; the kind that is always within, but kindled when together. We were together again, and in that moment that's all that mattered to me. I wasn't thinking about Idaho or the people in my dorm or college. We finally got back to my house where I was most happy to see the rest of my family: my brother, my sister, and the mutts. It felt like everything was complete, and I began to feel less of the gap.
Yet, over break, I still struggled with the question of returning to Idaho. I hadn't told anyone, but for a time, I was absolutely set on staying in Germany. Everything felt complete, expect for finding things to occupy the vast amount of time I had to myself. I had friends to hang out with, I had things to study, I could watch television, and I could sleep, but nothing seemed to fill the time the way outings at college did. Moreover, it became profoundly paramount to me that, while I felt whole and warm with my family, I didn't feel it in the places I had associated with being in Germany. The place I ended up despising the most turned out to be the place I spent most of my time, my former high school. It wasn't the place I remembered. The faces I associated with it seemed distant, perhaps in part to my lack of communication with them or perhaps because I had changed and felt distanced from them. Either way, I began to feel that Idaho was where I'd rather be even though it meant I was far from the home I've always had as home.
But, as I said before, home is not so easily defined. As break ended and I returned to Idaho somewhat torn apart, I wondered what lay in store in the coming weeks. Silently, I told myself that I would let this semester determine a lot of what I wanted to do in the coming year, and it has. Being here on my own, and with the help of others, has made me feel a sense of home here in Idaho. It's not the same sense I thought I had of Idaho at one time, but rather, the feeling that I'm not as alone as I thought I was during first semester. I've found friends who are, in many ways, my family away from family; my home away from home. Some have always been here (or near here...or over 1000 miles away from here), and others I found this semester. Perhaps that's why I'm not entirely ready to jump on the plane to Germany. I've found home, or at least a trace of it here in the friends I have both near and far. I know that I'll be happy and warm while I'm home, but part of me will miss being here even though it's only for three months because it's my home too.
That's why, I think, I've ensured myself to keep as busy as possible this summer without being overburdened. Almost everything I plan on doing during this break brings me back here. It reminds me to keep focused on what I will be doing because it will affect what I will come back to. It's a long road and I can barely see off into the horizon to where it leads, but I feel reassured that on either end I'm in a place where I belong.
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Sunday, May 30, 2004
With the war between the two countries and the dissension rising, the dolls were soon forgotten in terms of sentiment and friendship almost to the point of nonexistence. It wasn't until after the WWII had ended, specifically the bombing of Hiroshima, that Japan and America came back together in the beginning of peace and understanding. Granted, the war was of an entirely different subject matter than the dolls, the fact remains that the dolls tell a history from a perspective no one else can really tell. They tell a story from both sides, not just from one side as history tends to do. However, as Takaoka-san noted, their voices can't be heard. Instead, their stories must be voiced through the actions of those who saved them and held on to them during the rough times.
