Perhaps it was the plurality of the question. Rach and I were camping, and our combined transient states led to some confusion when asked multiple times where are you guys from? Welllll......we'd always have to start with some thought, a slight laugh, and a look thrown at each other. We know each other from school just east of St. Louis. But she's from Central Illinois. And living in Florida. And I'm living in Wisconsin. And we're camping in Southern Missouri. See? It gets tricky.
But it wasn't just the question's plurality that got me thinking. For the past four years I had answers ready to go when asked where are you from? At school I could say "I'm from Northeastern Wisconsin." Few know Door County, and even fewer know Ellison Bay. No one knows Gills Rock. Northeastern Wisconsin is usually a safe bet. Sometimes I could even throw in a "Northern Illinois, originally. Right on the border," if it meant making a connection with someone. During the summers I could respond "I'm from here. My parents live up on the northern end, but I'm going to school in Southern Illinois. Just east of St. Louis." Few know Greenville. Most know St. Louis. Some guess Carbondale, but I wasn't quite that far south. Had Rach and I been asked together while attending Greenville, we could have responded (and probably did) "I'm from Northeastern Wisconsin, she's from Normal, Illinois. We go to Greenville together." And that would have been a perfectly acceptable response. In Guatemala I even had a response ready to go. "Soy del norte de los Estados." I'm from the northern part of the States. No one knew any specific states. Except for maybe New York. Close enough, right?
But now all of a sudden I'm in transition. I can no longer claim Greenville as home. I don't know how long I will be calling Door County home. And I don't know where I'll be next. What will my answer be then?
When I was in Guatemala, my dear roommate and I would spend countless hours in El Parque Central in Antigua, people watching, and chatting with whatever locals would come to try and sell us their wares. It made for some of my favorite memories of the whole 4 months. We met some incredible people. One day we met an older, Guatemalan man named Sergio. He sat down on the bench next to us as we listened to a different old man play us songs from something that looked like an accordion (he's a story for a different day.). Nicely dressed, with a cute straw fedora, Sergio struck up a conversation with us first in Spanish, but then quickly in flawless English. We asked him where he was from, as conversations with strangers usually go. Soy de aquí, pero he vivido...pues...Soy del mundo. I'm from here, but I've lived...well...I'm from the world.
Soy del mundo. I loved this answer. He had lived and was living in Guatemala where he was born, he lived in the US teaching at a university out east, he'd been to Europe, he'd slept in Tikal listening to howler monkeys in the jungle... Point is, the man was from everywhere. And to me that is beautiful. I claim where I'm living as home, where my parents are living as where I'm from. But I, like Sergio, want to be a citizen of the world. I want to travel, not as a tourist, but rather as one actively involved in whatever community I land in. I want to experience new people and see their lives through their eyes. I want to see diverse communities develop and flourish as they see necessary. I want to have root places to go home to, but my home is wherever I go next. Home is the life you make wherever you are. I want to experience the world. Not just one little piece of it. There are places I will always return to. Beds I'll always be back to sleep in. But I hope and dream to be able to say Soy del mundo. I'm from the world.
camping on the Missouri River
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