Recently, it has struck me, this poignant feeling. I feel, as if I don't belong. Not to a group of friends, not to a certain way of living, but to a place in general. Meeting many people at school, and around, you get a sense that some of them are perfectly comfortable in their culture; they have a true sense of who they are. I, unfortunately, don't have that feeling. And so in my vain attempt to gather it, I shall learn dutch, so I have decided. This, however was what I had told myself years ago. Summers ago, I had endeavoured to learn it, yet have never quite brought myself to do it. I mean, over the years, I have caught onto the catchphrases and salutations. But I want something more. To belong.
When I go back to my grandfather's house in Leidschendam, it is incredible how much I remember. The world takes a tilt back into the year of 1997, when I was slipping up that wooden spiral staircase in my itchy tight mayos that mum would make me wear. The cowskin leather pouf was my decided resting spot. No one could dethrone me. Every Friday night, or so it seemed, the glass chandelier would come to life, leaving the living room in a soft, fuzzed din, that would soothe and only serve to complement the amiable atmosphere of the guests my parents and grandparents would be entertaining, smiles, clinks of champagne glasses and smalltalk were enjoyed by all. All this, we could see through the large glass window, a picture perfect view, from our world. All our world had, was a seahorse, it's tail of a coil uprooting likewise with the tufts of grass around it, a motorcar, and a battered blue river slide. But it was our world, regardless. We'd run, me, my sister, my friends Ronald and Florijs and her friends Roeland and Marcel giddily in youthful carefree spirit, not stopping to think what the next day would bring us, because where we were was perfect. We were home. And when we got tired of that home, we'd rush down the cobbled path, to the warmth of our other home. How perfect! I'd lazily nestle myself in my mother's lap, the low baritone of my father's laugh, my ideal lullaby. In no time I'd be asleep, dreaming of yonder, dreaming of what a four year old dares to dream up. I could wake up and do it all over again. Oh how I wish those days would never end.
I know, I've changed so much as a person. Especially this year, meeting certain people from certain backgrounds has opened my eyes to where I am in the world. But it's memories like these, that I can honestly say, ALWAYS bring a tear to my eye. When I look back on that world, I don't see the pain of moving, of lost friends and heartbreaks, of the loss of someone I loved so much, that I can't even begin to admit to anyone, let alone myself how much it hurts me every day. I just see, the world that many other people see - a delicious home made meal cooked up in the kitchen and a stroll clinging on tightly to my grandfather's leathery hand on the way to the supermarket. It's at this point where I realise it wasn't about belonging; it was about that feeling of everything is going to be alright. I feel since, a few years ago, I've been plunged into a constant sense of uncertainty. People say, it's uncertainty that makes your life what it is, unpredictability is the excitement in your life. But there are some things, you wish, just like you know the sun is going to come up the next morning, that you could be sure of.
At a time like this, when large life changing decisions are to be made, it makes me ponder about what could have been. How differently my life could've turned out. Who would've thought all those years ago, what was to come? Unpredictability hit me, with an incontrovertible force.
I should put the past in the past, as it is, the past. However I know I have no intention of truly doing so. Those memories, are the strongest, and some of the happiest I've ever known. If the past is my only link to them, so be it. Not to say, happier memories aren't to be created, but they will always be tainted, with this feeling of detachment from my young, happy self. They just won't be the same. And so, I pledge, to belong.
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