So today I met a lady who had lived near Albany, NY (Troy) for sometime and suddenly my memories of my grandparents and aunt, the summers and Christmases that were spent there….all came flooding back. My grandparents have been dead for sometime and I myself can’t even get back to the states right now (it’s been almost 10 years), but just meeting someone who knows a place that is important to you helps me to feel “known”.
Being known or understood is a great comfort. We don’t need words or explanations. Without even saying much, we can convey our feelings and they “land” with the other person…because they know what we know. When we leave our homes and travel far, then a lot of this common knowledge disappears and we feel like strangers. We have an identity that is put away in the closet since it isn’t relevant to the new geographic area. All the things, though trivial, that were important to us don’t translate well to the new place. Even if certain sensations could be described, without experience they can never truly be known and so much of us will also remain unknown. But then comes someone who has lived in your hometown or visited…and there is an instant connection, as if a part of your home has come overseas and visited you.
Quinby 