“Is it weird for you to be back?” This is the question my mom asks me when we’re driving home from the airport on Wednesday after our arrival to New Jersey from Dominican Republic. “NOPE. Not even a little.”
I lived in the same house, on the same street, in the same town, in the same state for 30 years before I left to live in DR. My sister teaches at the same high school we attended and when I come home I go out for drinks with her and the same teachers that taught me ninth grade science. I know how this town smells in every season, each smell evoking special memories. I know every shortcut from the mall to my house (malls are a major thing in New Jersey FYI). I know how to respond when a stranger makes a joke instead of giggling uncomfortably like I do in DR because I’m not quite sure how to “do witty” in Spanish – even if it is a language I’m totally comfortable speaking.
My parents’ home exudes the smell of yummy food from its pores and the TV is always on, there like a welcome mat. I love waking up to the Today Show and seeing my beloved Manhattan as the backdrop to my mornings with a cup of coffee on a comfortable recliner. We move to the backyard for breakfast. Fenced in and well manicured, it’s pretty nice hearing birds chirp and lawn mowers mow and whistles of the soccer games at schools nearby blow as the background music instead of cars honking and motorcycles backfiring on busy Avenida Anacaona where we live nine months out of the year. Not to mention here, I could still sit outside without melting.
“Go play.” The words come out so easy here. Throwing the kids in the backyard to walk barefoot in the soft grass reminds me of the complete opposite-ness of the last few weeks in the Dominican Republic where grass is really stiff, pointy sticks that are begging for water like a drifter in the desert that pinch my butt like stinging bees when I tried to sit down… even with pants on, even with a towel down.
In Santo Domingo we have a car. We drive it to the grocery store and to some friends’ houses and that’s kinda it. I could count how often we drive it more than 15-minutes away. Since landing in New Jersey on Wednesday – not even a week ago- we’ve driven to New Brunswick (15min away), Holmdel (3omin away), Old Bridge (30 min away), and Kinnelon (a town an hour+ away that I’ve never heard of let alone even been to before) all in search of bicycles from Craigslist. Don’t even get me started on the beauty of Craigslist or the beauty of being able to ride bikes… anywhere.
Tony’s is here, which tops my list as my “favorite pizza place” ever (Yes, BOLD statement but true nonetheless). Tony’s is the pizza I grew up on since their pizzeria was born almost a decade before I was born. Pizza so good it doesn’t need a fancy website. Target is here which sounds silly unless you live in a place that has zero Targets in which case you will kiss the Target floor upon entering for the first time. Angry Orchard Hard Cider and other pretty beers are here.
You might be asking yourself why in the world I would ever leave here if life here is so much sweeter (like beer that tastes like apple juice) than our life abroad? Why would I go back to a country whose conveniences fall anorexically slim in comparison to this country’s conveniences?
The answer is pretty simple: I felt the same way about the U.S right before I left it as I do now about DR because when you live somewhere for longer than a vacation stay, it’s idiosyncrasies annoy you. Similar to the “newlywed” phase of a marriage – everything is awesome in the beginning – when it’s new and it isn’t until you’ve been married for a while that things start to drive you bonkers. It doesn’t mean you love it less, it just has the ability to annoy you more. So is the case here: without the Dominican Republic, New Jersey wouldn’t seem as Apple Orchard sweet. It takes the inconveniences of there to showcase the conveniences of here. It takes living outside of New Jersey to appreciate all I leave behind. And while DR has the ability to super annoy, like Husband, there’s plenty to love.
Expats move around from place to place, calling different places “home” for extended amounts of time but there is typically only one place that can win the real home title. And for me, that’s New Jersey.
So, no. It’s not weird.
It’s home.
P.S. Check out this fun series Unpacking Expat Homes
Pearl Maple
July 4, 2014Great post, there is a delightful feeling in arriving home after being on the road, feeling the connections to your family and all your history in a place.