All the aunties warned me before I left, ” you’re going to miss your family”, “You’re going to be homesick “. I hated that they said that in attempts to make me feel bad for moving, but I know myself better than anyone. So badly did I want to say, “Okay, auntie I surely know who I’m not going to miss”, but I kept my mouth shut.
As expected, I have yet to experience home sickness. I mean, I got the flu, and don’t get me wrong, I miss the outgoings with my best friends and the late nights with family, but that was bound to be postponed, not lost, with the onset of university. Video calls exist and I’ll be back home before anyone realizes it, including myself.
But, even before I left, the only person I was worried to “leave behind” was my grandmother. Not only would it be difficult to get ahold of her with the elderly struggle with technology but she took care of me much of my life. We were homies, the one granddaughter and Grandma and Grandpa. But in recent years, I became one of her caregivers and entertainers following my Grandfather’s death a year and a half ago.
She’s happy I’m following my dreams, as with everyone else that genuinely cares about me. But it continues to beg the question – am I selfish for being the youngest in the house and perhaps the mediator and therapist to the family and friends, then up and moving away?
But, someone had to be the best friend, daughter, granddaughter or at least high school friend that posts beach pics and writes blog posts about moving halfway across Canada for university right? The one that calls their parents from the middle of the ocean (which did in fact happen) and calls their best friends from their daily bus-train-walk commute home?
I mean at least I have that title, the one that committed to Shenanigans that last a lifetime because…
if you must shenan once, you best shenanigan…
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