Sunday, June 26, 2011

Judy and Sarah

One lives in San Francisco, surrounded by the pulse of the city where there is always something happening, on the edge of the Haight, within a few blocks of the Golden Gate Park, the DeYoung Art Museum, Japanese Tea Garden, Arboretum, and new Science Museum. The symphony, the ballet, theatre and numerous museums are a short bus ride away.

The other lives on an idyllic campus-like setting, with lots of open space, grass, and trees, in an environment that caters to pre-school age children like her own, a place that is generally quiet and peaceful, and where you can have all of your meals in the communal dining hall without ever cooking or washing a dish.

The city slicker, who moved to the City two years ago to live with her boyfriend , would rather be back in the suburbs where all her friends still live. The kibbutz transplant would rather be back in the glitzy city of LA where she grew up, despite its sometimes sordid underbelly.

It seems ironic. But of course there is more to each of their stories than the single paragraph above.

The city slicker has been housebound for most of the two years she has lived in the City due to an accident that happened shortly after she moved. Getting up and down the stairs in the three story Victorian has been a challenge at times; getting around the City has been difficult at best.

The LA-kibbutz transplant has uprooted her LA lifestyle and moved halfway across the world, to a different culture, language and lifestyle. Her kids are thriving, but she feels isolated, even though connected to her friends by Facebook and Skype.

We have cell phones, internet, Facebook, cars and jet planes. We can live in a bustling metropolis and still feel cut off from the world....from "our" world....the world we have grown up in or the world we have created for ourselves. We can live in the friendliest of places, and still long for "home".

I myself was involuntarily transplanted from East to West coast over 30 years ago. I too moved in with a boyfriend, who later became my husband. A temporary job turned into a permanent one, and here I am, 30 years later, still living in California. Over many years, California became "home" to me.

I have asked myself recently how would I feel if I was needed by my family in Connecticut. There is no question in my mind that I would drop everything and be on the next plane, no questions asked. I am just not sure how long it would take before Connecticut felt like "home" to me again, or if it ever would.

Home can be many things. It is where you feel loved. It is where you are most comfortable. It is your favorite place, the place you can relax and be yourself. The place you "fit-in". It is where your friends are. And, as was once said, "Home is where the heart is." Exactly right my friends, exactly right.

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