I am leaving Syktyvkar today.
What follows is the speech I have given to my husband's parents what feels like a zillion times in my head, but that I am too afraid of sobbing to tell them out loud, the way I do when I merely think about it:
I am always incredibly self-conscious when I travel. Over time, the more cultures I have experienced, the less and more self-conscious I have become. Less about my appearance, as i have come to realize that my own culture is the most superficial I know, and moreso about being seen as such simply based on my being American. It's sad that I feel this shame, but right now it is well-founded.
Imagine then, how anxious I must have felt to be not simply visiting Russia - a place that during the Cold War, which I and my husband grew up on different sides of, was "the enemy" and my country theirs - but to have married into it as well. To have my in-laws there. In America, there is already an expectancy that your spouse's family will love you or hate you and there is little in between.
However, I am humbled to find that I have should have known all along that I would be accepted here.
There is this thing in Ilya - something warm and loving and caring and giving - that made me love him in the first place. Instantly I saw the same thing present in Dasha and I loved her on sight. It would only make sense that as you made them, you made them the beautiful people that they are. That this light they carry is a gift from you.
I am amazed that having grown up being told that Russians are cold, miserable human beings - though as I grew to think for myself I knew this could not wholly be true - to find that Ilya's family - mama, papa, Dasha, Tania, all - are a structural unit with the kind of loving support system that extends only barely beyond parents and children in my normal world.
As my husband is now calling me Tolstoy because I have gone on so much, let me leave it at this. I am happy and honored and privileged to not only have been embraced and welcomed into your family, but to have spent this time feeling as if I had always been a part of it.
I love you.
Monday, November 13, 2006
so titled by my beloved friend jerry. the not-so-much-a soap opera that is my life as i simultaneously embrace and attempt to avoid genuine adulthood
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