So many people, friends, guests, complete strangers in Publix, ask me this question, or some variance of it. “How often do you go home? When last were you home?” and so on.
And my answer is always the same…soon.
Because as an immigrant of many decades, I’ve got a plan to go “home” any day now. If you ask the price of a plane ticket to London, I could tell you, within a few dollars. Not only how much it is, but what the exchange rate is too.
It’s an odd phenomenon, this going home business. Because even when it had been many years since I had actually gone, I was always planning the trip. Other family members and friends who’ve lived almost their whole adult lives in a different country tell the same story.
Perhaps it’s the lot of every emigrant. Even those who’ve spent more years living “here” than “there” tell the same story of “keeping up” with the country where they were born, and will return to, if only for a short holiday, before they return “home” to the USA.
Confusing? A bit.
Identity crisis? Perhaps.
Problem? Not on your life.
I’m blessed and I know it.
So if I don’t give you the specifics of whether I’ve actually bought the ticket (a NOYB question, if ever I heard one), know this when you ask about my next trip to London.
It’s soon.
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