Sorry it has been soooo long since I've made an entry! Trudy (my computer) decided that she would contract a virus...AGAIN! In a day or so I'll probably tell you all about that fiasco, because this blog entry is not about computer viruses.
I grew up in a tiny hick-ville everybody knows everybody kind of town (for Elizabeth's amusement, let's call this town Green County). The summer going into my freshmen year, my family moved to the suburbs of Indianapolis. However, five years later, my parents and brothers have spent the past two days on the road moving to a new house. When I went home last weekend, a lot of my belongings which I left behind were lost in a mess of moving boxes. Before I left, my sister and I walked around the house. I didn't feel anything. No sadness. No loss. The house I lived in the last four years didn't mean a thing to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm at a loss for how sad I am that my family is moving so far away, but I felt no attachment to the house or town they were leaving behind. It was interesting to compare my feelings then and the feelings I had when my family moved from my home town.
My sister and I cried for days and days; we were so angry with our parents. I was leaving what I believed to be the perfect life. Before all of us kids were shoved in the van to head to the Indy area, I walked through the house and around the yard. Not only did I walk around, but I spoke to things. I spoke to the individual rooms in the house. I talked about all the things I had done there and what I would miss. I went through the back yard and climbed the pear
tree one last time. I visited Little's grave to tell her goodbye; I still feel guilty about leaving her there.
So here it is folks, with the help of Miss Lambert's (Soon to be Mrs. Blake Shelton, though I highly doubt she will actually change her name..but anyway...I digress...) song, I'm going to tell you a little about the house that built me.
"I know they say, you can't go home again. I just had to come back one last time. Ma'am I know you don't know me from Adam, but these hand prints on the front steps are mine. Up those stairs, in that little back bedroom is where I did my homework, and I learned to play guitar. And I bet you didn't know that under that old oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard."
Thomas Wolfe once said, "You can't go home again." I was always skeptical of this statement until I tried going home myself. Green County was my life! My friends and future were all lined up right there for me. Just as things seemed perfect, I had to leave. Going home was the hardest thing. At first it wasn't terrible, but slowly I felt pushed out of the conversations. My friends would mention new people I had never met, and they didn't know anyone involved in the stories I told. I was always so incredibly excited to return home and see everyone. During the three hour car ride "home" however, I would get extremely depressed and sad about what I had left behind. Because, no matter how many times I made friends walk, ride, or drive past my old house, it wasn't mine anymore. A new family lives there. They play basketball on the hoop my dad purchased and cemented in place, yet they have no idea whose feet and initials are forever embedded in the concrete which supports the pole. Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. Wolfe is right. Once you leave, you can never go home again because you and your home are both constantly changing. Nothing will ever be exactly as how you once remembered it, and that fact is at times hard to stomach. Most kids don't learn about this until they go off to college their freshmen year, but lucky me was exposed to it my freshmen year of high school. What I just wrote sounds really depressing and harsh upon rereading it, but I want you all to know that it's fine. It's okay that you can't go home again. It's scary to think about at first, but it's okay because soon, you will find a new home. Even if you don't get the "homey" feeling right away, be patient. It will come.
"I thought if I could touch this place or feel it. This brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else. I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothin' but a memory from the house that built me."
So why did I keep going home? I would get so excited to go back home and visit everyone, yet every single time, without fail, I rode back "home" extremely depressed and saddened. It was a pattern which I repeated for four years of my life. In my new town things were different. No one knew me (which was partially my fault considering the first two years I lived their I had absolutely no intentions of getting to know or getting close with anyone in that town. I automatically hated everyone and everything related to my new suburban residence.). I felt empty and broken without my life in Green County. I kept telling myself that if I kept going back and tried harder things would be the same. If I kept going back, I could find the strength to be Green County Sequoia in my new town. Very few people from Indy know the Green County Sequoia, and a lot of that is my fault. I wasn't willing to embrace the change of my environment. I was losing myself to somebody I didn't want to become. In my mind, going home again and visiting those who helped create me was the only way to find and be myself again. Of course that logic is seriously flawed in more ways than one, but I was young. I probably would have felt differently had I known that in the future I would still be crazy close with some of my besties from Green County, but I didn't, and I did everything possible to cling onto those people and our memories together.
"Mama cut out pictures of houses for years from "Better Homes and Garden" magazine. Plans were drawn and concrete poured and nail by nail and board by board, daddy gave life to mama's dream. I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else. I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothin' but a memory from the house that built me."
This part of the song makes me think about my parents and how far they have come in their lives together. I don't think I've ever seen two people so in love even after all this time. I get a gag me this is adorable but weird because they are my parents type of reaction every time I see them together. My parents had a rough go of it at first, but through hard work and my father's genius career moves our family is now doing extremely well. This new move has hit me in a different way than the first. My parents and brothers are moving into an extremely nice house very far from my sister and I. It's weird to think that they are starting a whole new life together as a family--without us. At times I feel like this move and their new life doesn't involve me. It's like, I'm not apart of the new family that's starting over. Realistically, I'll probably never live in the new house. From here on out, every summer this little chemical engineering student needs to find herself internships meaning I won't live with them. Most of the year I'll be at Purdue, and during breaks we will all be up in northern Indiana with the family. I guess I'm trying to say that I'm just not sure where I fit. I don't know where I fit into this new family with this new life--which both saddens and scares the crap out of me. Trying to go home again brings me back to the times when I knew who I was within the family. But like I said earlier, people change. No matter how hard you look or try to act, your family and how they function as a unit is never quite the same.
"You leave home, you move on, and you do the best you can. I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am. I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself."
"You leave home, you move on, and you do the best you can. I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am. I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself."
So this is what I've done. I've left home and gone to college. I'm doing the best I possibly can, but Purdue's slogan should be as follows: "Purdue University: Where Your Best Hasn't Been Good Enough Since 1869." There really is a lot of truth to that statement especially if you are in one of the more challenging majors i.e. engineering. It seems as though no matter how hard you try, it's simply not good enough. You start realizing that the 60% you received on your math exam isn't half bad which is a state of mind I thought I could never achieve. Going from salutatorian of my graduating class and having the "I must get an 'A' on everything" mentality, the 52% I once received on a chemistry exam really messed with my head. Purdue academics are mentally exhausting and force you to push yourself to places you never thought you could go. I mean, I programmed a robot. Me. I PROGRAMMED A ROBOT! This is coming from one of the most computer illiterate people on the planet, and I, Sequoia Elite Murray can proudly say I programmed a robot. I'm starting to digress again...Towards the end of last year I had a mini break down regarding school and my life in general. I felt like my world was crashing to the ground; it was not a pretty situation. When I talked to my parents all I could say and talk about was how much I wanted to go home and how much I needed to be home. When people feel lost they turn to the familiar in order to feel safe and find themselves again. For me, home is the familiar place I turn. No matter what phase I am in my life, I always run home in order to get that feeling of security and reassurance. In fact, I'm doing so this weekend. Cherry and I are making a Green County trip this weekend to get together with some old friends. My old group of girls and I plan to float the river, jump off train bridge, and do other random Green County activities which I have greatly missed. I'll visit all my old hang outs and have a weekend full of reminiscing. At some point I plan to drive by my old house. It's a classic, old three story farm house with a front porch and a swing. Pine trees line the perimeter of the property (my family planted them), and a pear tree, grape vine, and raspberry bush are in the far back. The property is roughly an acre in total. So many changes have been made to the house since I lived there roughly five years ago. If I'm brave enough, I'll march up to the front door, knock, and if someone is home, I'll tell them how their current house helped mold me and state "If I could walk around, I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothin' but a memory from the house that built me."
Wish me luck!
All my love,
Koya = )
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