It is strange to me to think that in the future I will look back on this time in my life and simply say, "I lived in Portland with my best friends and worked at an immigration law firm in Salem," and this could easily summarize the past year. And then maybe I would just move on in the conversation and talk about something else. Every smaller detail beyond that would require more conversation or perhaps it would come up in a different setting under a different topic, or just never come up at all. Like right now. I am sitting in my bedroom at my moms house and I'm watching a Hillary Duff movie because even though she is a ridiculous actress and I want to slap her when she trys to be emotional, her silly stories are entertaining enough to watch alone on a Saturday night after everyone else has gone to bed and there is nothing else to do. So you see, that lame story I just told would probably never have been mentioned again in my life if I hadn't said it now, because who cares? But this is my reality right now, and it seems weird that it is probably a moment I won't think about again.
Even the slighlty more memorable moments, like last Thursday when Claire, Julie and I pooled our change together so that we could buy a box of wine. We eventually came up with 15 dollars, drove to Fred Meyer, and spent about 10 whole minutes trying to pay for the wine at the self check-out stand because the damn machine would only take one quarter for every two we put in. The woman supervising was staring at us during this process, which was a little noisy as we were flinging change into the machine while cussing and laughing, and said, "You girls must really want that wine." To which we enthusiastically agreed, and then high-fived each other when we finally had shoved enough quarters in to pay for the whole thing. Even this story would probably only be told a few times to a few people, and then be forgotten until one day in the distant future, one of us said, "Remember that time we paid for boxed wine with all quarters?" And we would all laugh and high-five each other again.
And finally, the "moments." The moments that stay with us forever and would probably come up in conversation but still will never be portrayed in that first and most important sentence. Like when we finally received the work visa for this woman who is married to a US citizen but has been treated so cruelly by him and could never get away because she had no way to support herself or her children without being able to get a job legally. She hugged me at least three times the day she came in to get her visa, brought us flowers, couldn't stop thanking me, and had to leave because she was going to start crying. We truly gave her her freedom; freedom from abuse, freedom from poverty, freedom from shame. And that is the day I finally understood the meaning of the word. All these years I have been hearing "freedom" and never could comprehend it because I already had it. I can't describe how it feels to give this most precious gift to someone who truly needs and deserves it.
These moments will live with me forever. But they still don't appear in the summary that is that one sentence describing this part of my life. I can say, "I spent a year in Spain teaching English," and that can explain my entire trip to Spain. So much happened in that year that made me the person who I am today, but that isn't portrayed in this one important sentence. I learned that living in another country is still living, just in another country. It isn't full of splendors all the time; sometimes it sucks, just like life at home. I still had to pay rent and electricity and go to work and buy food and there were still mundane moments. I also learned how to travel in Europe, and I know now that I could return alone and feel completely comfortable getting around and finding places to stay. I learned that feeling productive and worthwhile is the most important thing you could do for yourself, and without that, homesickness and depression can easily overtake you. I learned that a hair dryer can also be used as a clothes dryer as well as a heater. I learned how to pack lightly. I learned not to smoke weed in the back room of a bar with people I just met. I learned some Polish words. I learned loads of Spanish words. I learned that almost everyone in hostels are looking to meet new people, just start with the standard question, "Where are you from?" And I learned that even though it was wonderful and hard and exciting and crazy, that this experience was mine, it was perfect, and I wouldn't change anything about it.
But these things are not included in these one summary sentences! I could talk for days about them. "I went to high school." That was four years of experiences. "I went to Linfield College, and it was awesome." Four more years. "I lived in Spain and taught English." Another year. "I live in Portland with my best friends and work at a law firm." Another year. This will go on for the rest of my life, accumulating sections of my story into short sentences. So the only way to portray everything behind that sentence is to keep talking...
I guess that's what conversations are for.
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