I still have a pile of raw footage and some half completed posts about São Jorge, but those are going to have to wait. (Flashback Fridays? I could make that a thing.) I'm about to leave my little rock in the middle of the Atlantic for a slightly bigger one, but even that's just a pitstop on the way to continental Portugal.
I'm getting serious C.S. Lewis's The Last Battle vibes. "Further up and further in!" I'm starting as small and familiar as I can get, but this country (while it isn't quite Aslan's country) is just going to grow as my journey this summer moves forward.
I'm glad I came early to see my family and ease myself into this experience. I left something out of my first blog post; São Jorge plays a huge part in how I got here. It is how I got here! It's where my roots are, even if I'm a transplant that blossomed in American soil. My personal journey started here (I left São Jorge the first time as a fetus), so of course the chase for my Atlantis this summer had to start here, too.
One thing did sink in, however. I might be from here, but I'm not of here. I never understood that truth quite so intensely as I did this summer. I never felt my separateness, my Americanness, more keenly than this summer. Almost everyone I knew here as a child is married with kids or nearly so. Their lives are nothing like mine. They're smaller. On this island, there's only so much space to grow.
My life would have been entirely different if I'd grown up here. It nearly happened, too. I understand now why so many people leave. Some come back and stay, but not all of them do. My parents nearly did when I was four. I have so much to than them for, but let's add that to the list. I might have done a lot of stupid (and not so stupid) things to get to where I am today and become the late blooming academic that I am today, but I don't think I'd want any other life.
Enough insomniac ramblings. Early flight tomorrow. Good night, São Jorge.
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