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As if to make it easier for me to say goodbye, my hometown is wrapped in her favorite color. The sky is gray, the houses are gray, the streets, individual raindrops on the window panes. Saying goodbye is not easy, it never happens. But as I sit here at the gate, I am surprised to find that I am not crying. For some reason, it’s easier for me than before. Although, or precisely because this stay was especially pleasant. For example, I didn’t get sick. And Victor, who was admitted to the hospital on an emergency basis before my departure, recovered so quickly that everyone was amazed, and I relaxed.
I had enough time for my loved ones, I even saw some of them more than once. One or two small children even recognized me and named me Tata – a special reward. Now that might make it hard to say goodbye, but the opposite is the case. I’m bursting with happiness like a balloon. This feeling of happiness carried me through passport control and past the yodel murals. And it will carry me further, across oceans and continents, to my other hometown, colorful.
Unlike other “normal” expats, I didn’t give up one life to start a new one. I live two lives in two places. Until now, I have always thought that the inner turmoil that I always feel wherever I go, and the pain of every departure, is the price I pay for this rather presumptuous lifestyle. I accepted it. But now, most of all, I feel immense gratitude.
The truth is that even as a child I struggled with the idea that I only have one life. This can’t be enough! There must have been a misunderstanding. Then I learned to read. Each book was a window to another world. I threw myself between the pages, like in the waves of the sea, I swam with stories, I dissolved in them. Every book I read was an extra life for me. And later every book I wrote. And, after all, it was books that made this double life possible for me. Not only the books I write that aren’t tied to one place, but more importantly the books I’ve read that have trained my imagination to embrace this audacious opportunity of living on two continents.
Victor understands this: after all, he lived two completely different lives in two places for years. One is determined by the rhythm of corn cultivation and traditional ceremonies, the other by the demands of the art market. He did not voluntarily limit himself to one place, this decision was forced. “If I could, I would too,” he says. There is sadness in his voice. And now I really should feel guilty, but his story only increases my sense of gratitude. I would have treated him unfairly if I had not acknowledged my (completely undeserved) privilege, my happiness.
Okay, now the tears are still welling up…
Source: Blick
I am David Miller, a highly experienced news reporter and author for 24 Instant News. I specialize in opinion pieces and have written extensively on current events, politics, social issues, and more. My writing has been featured in major publications such as The New York Times, The Guardian, and BBC News. I strive to be fair-minded while also producing thought-provoking content that encourages readers to engage with the topics I discuss.
