Two suitcases and a carry-on
Our daughter recently left to live abroad. She will be living and working in Madrid for about a year. She gave up her comfortable life, quit her good-paying job and said good-bye to her friends in search of a new way of life. We skyped the other day and I haven't seen her as relaxed in a long time. She reports that she's learning her way around, getting lost sometimes, but is adjusting to a new life far from what she's used to. She says she keeps reminding herself that she's no longer in the US as a way of ensuring that she starts to understand how to live in Spain. As she prepared for this trip, I couldn't help but recall my own preparation for my immigration to the US. My circumstances were a little different: I was younger, already married, and had sisters I could live with when I got to the US. My daughter was going to join a teaching program, with housing provided for at least a month, but she will be pretty much on her own.
It's a bit ironic that despite the magnitude of this life change, the preparation culminates in a decision over what to bring. What does one pack in two suitcases and a carry-on? What of your life do you bring with you on a journey for a new life?
I recall having a similar experience when our son decided to move back to Chicago two years ago, after college graduation. Though it seemed that for him, it was simpler. Guys don't worry about packing -- and besides, he was staying in the continent, a quick 2 hour flight from home. Still, I would always remember the sight of him boarding the train with two suitcases and a carry-on: his guitar case.
With our daughter, it felt more involved. She has been living 2 miles from us for the past four years, and she struggled about whether she was going to make this move or not. I too struggled with this decision over 30 years ago. I was the last child to leave, and even if I was already married, I felt very conflicted about leaving my aging parents. To their credit, they never held me back, and we too felt compelled to encourage our daughter to move forward.
I remember shopping with my mother, as I shopped with my daughter. New work clothes, new shoes, new stuff. In many ways we brought mostly the same kinds of things -- basic clothes and accessories. Other things that she packed were in anticipation of circumstances she expected to find herself in: a first aid kit, an umbrella, a couple of towels-- things that I didn't worry about because I was going straight to my sister's house. She used her tennis bag as her carry-on : a reliable go-to, an enduring part of her identity, no matter how far she'll move away from the sport. I remember bringing my first fountain pen - a lasting vistage of my CPA exams. I still have it, and now enjoy collecting and writing with fountain pens. I found it amusing that she ordered and brought with her a supply of beautiful linen personalized stationery. She will write, she said. I can't wait to get her first letter. I brought childhood pictures- preserved in the first photo album I made when I was 10 years old. I think I was worried they'd get lost and I couldn't look back on my childhood anymore.
Looking back, most of what I brought were replaced over time with new purchases --more reflective of the fashion and signs of the time and place I was in. But I still leaf through that first photo album, as what remains--no matter what new life one starts and builds - are the memories. These memories will accompany me, and our daughter, and our son, through the journey of life. They are packed tightly in our hearts, and long after the suitcases ad carry-ons are discarded, these memories will be there, as enduring go-tos, part of who we are and will become, overcoming the test of time and place.
