On Growing Up
Before last year I had little experience with new places. In 10th grade I started a new high school, and I moved a couple times in college, but let's be honest. That high school was 10 minutes from home, and college was still in Nashville, and moving from a dorm to an apartment .5 miles away isn't too jarring.
I did, however, spend a chunk of my summers in Russia, which nearly all of you know - and that, my friends, is a different place. I still remember the first night I arrived in Karachaevsk in 2010 after traversing all those airports by myself, getting a ride with strangers, and landing at the front gate of a home I had never seen before. It was Nadya's house; I know that now. But that night, around 2am, it could have been anywhere in the world and there was nothing familiar about it.
I lived there for almost 3 months and Nadya taught me Russian around her kitchen table, and so did Tonya down the street, and the neighborhood kids who called me "DJORRRDON!" But my point is that although I arrived there at 2am on a summer night dazed and confused, entirely alone, I left three months later calling Nadya's house "home."
I moved to Atlanta almost 10 months ago. Contrary to what some may believe, Atlanta is not like Nashville, and it's not even like the south in general. Atlanta is a really new place. I didn't go kicking and screaming. I wanted to move. But 6 days out of 7, this city seems like the moon to me, and I can honestly say it took 6 months to really feel settled here. Russia only took 3, so I'm not sure what that means.
Although my experience with new places is limited, there's something I have learned: who I am in the old places and who I am in the new ones is the same.
Sometimes in those moments where I land on a doorstep at 2am in the dark, it feels like I am personless. Sometimes it feels like when I'm pulled from my element, my places, my people, I am no longer myself. And when I moved to Georgia I didn't think I would ever feel at home there, because my very self could not hold any home but Tennessee. I wasn't wrong on all accounts, but I was wrong about one: I am still myself. People in Atlanta see the same Jordan people in Nashville see, it turns out. My identity, strengths, weaknesses, passions remain. I can go anywhere and they remain. A more grown-up version, perhaps, but they remain.
So what I have learned is that being able to separate yourself from the "old" places is part of growing up. Nashville will always be in my blood. When I go home, the air will smell sweeter, the hills will roll greener, and the stars will be clearer. 12 South and the Gulch and East Nashville and Sylvan Park will be there. But new people will live in those houses, good people, and they won't know me, and that's ok. Being able to separate myself from the old places is part of growing up.
Life was going on in strange places like Atlanta long before I arrived there, and it will keep going on long after I leave. I think I've known myself for a long time, but only recently realized I've grown from the moving. I won't love every place I call home, but they will all grow up little parts of me, one at a time. In Georgia I'll learn some ethics. I'll do some work. I'll run some miles and read some things. I'll grow up a little more and then I'll move again. Probably I will be sad to leave, just like I was in Russia or Tennessee. But I'll take my Atlanta-grown self and go someplace new (or maybe old) and there will be some good people there waiting for me.
I did, however, spend a chunk of my summers in Russia, which nearly all of you know - and that, my friends, is a different place. I still remember the first night I arrived in Karachaevsk in 2010 after traversing all those airports by myself, getting a ride with strangers, and landing at the front gate of a home I had never seen before. It was Nadya's house; I know that now. But that night, around 2am, it could have been anywhere in the world and there was nothing familiar about it.
I lived there for almost 3 months and Nadya taught me Russian around her kitchen table, and so did Tonya down the street, and the neighborhood kids who called me "DJORRRDON!" But my point is that although I arrived there at 2am on a summer night dazed and confused, entirely alone, I left three months later calling Nadya's house "home."
I moved to Atlanta almost 10 months ago. Contrary to what some may believe, Atlanta is not like Nashville, and it's not even like the south in general. Atlanta is a really new place. I didn't go kicking and screaming. I wanted to move. But 6 days out of 7, this city seems like the moon to me, and I can honestly say it took 6 months to really feel settled here. Russia only took 3, so I'm not sure what that means.
Although my experience with new places is limited, there's something I have learned: who I am in the old places and who I am in the new ones is the same.
Sometimes in those moments where I land on a doorstep at 2am in the dark, it feels like I am personless. Sometimes it feels like when I'm pulled from my element, my places, my people, I am no longer myself. And when I moved to Georgia I didn't think I would ever feel at home there, because my very self could not hold any home but Tennessee. I wasn't wrong on all accounts, but I was wrong about one: I am still myself. People in Atlanta see the same Jordan people in Nashville see, it turns out. My identity, strengths, weaknesses, passions remain. I can go anywhere and they remain. A more grown-up version, perhaps, but they remain.
So what I have learned is that being able to separate yourself from the "old" places is part of growing up. Nashville will always be in my blood. When I go home, the air will smell sweeter, the hills will roll greener, and the stars will be clearer. 12 South and the Gulch and East Nashville and Sylvan Park will be there. But new people will live in those houses, good people, and they won't know me, and that's ok. Being able to separate myself from the old places is part of growing up.
Life was going on in strange places like Atlanta long before I arrived there, and it will keep going on long after I leave. I think I've known myself for a long time, but only recently realized I've grown from the moving. I won't love every place I call home, but they will all grow up little parts of me, one at a time. In Georgia I'll learn some ethics. I'll do some work. I'll run some miles and read some things. I'll grow up a little more and then I'll move again. Probably I will be sad to leave, just like I was in Russia or Tennessee. But I'll take my Atlanta-grown self and go someplace new (or maybe old) and there will be some good people there waiting for me.
Well put.
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