A child of the world

My parents are flying across the big blue Atlantic right now (or perhaps may already be in Amsterdam?) on their way to Vienna to see the family. Whenever they head overseas it makes me nostalgic and a little sad that I am not going along. From the age of 2, we traveled out of the country (or lived out of the country) at least every 5 years, but usually only 2-3. And when we were living overseas, we REALLY traveled everywhere. We only lived in Germany for 2 years but made it to 8 other countries during that time. 9 if you include the former East Germany. Ha ha-Mom & Dad, I am including that whirlwind 24 hours we spent in London after the red-eye flight. I am still amazed that Patrick and I have any recollection of that day. But I do! I remember Madame Tussaud's, the Tower of London, falling asleep on the shoulder of some random man on the train. Maybe Brian inherited his elephant of a memory from me?... Now, it has been 10 years since I have stepped foot outside of the US. 10 freaking years. How did this happen? Traveling was such a big part of who I am, and sculpted me into the person I am today, how is it that this is no longer apart of my life? I can certainly pinpoint some reasons. Money (or rather lack there of...). Strange development of a fear of flying. Time. Money. Babies. Responsibilities. Money. But how do you let something go that is such a core of your being? It has been 12 years since I have seen my family in Austria. They have never met Steve or Brian. Family- MY family.
I remember how hard it was adjusting back to this country when I graduated from high school and returned for college, after spending the better part of 6 years overseas. Some days I still feel like I am readjusting, strange after all these years. I just grew so accustomed to being around people that were not like me, did not look like me, did not sound like me, and did not travel the same road as me to get to where they were. In Hamburg, I was the honorary Swede. In Manila, I enjoyed friendships with Americans, Filipinos, Germans, Canadians, Palestinians, Israelis, French, British, and Dutch. I treasure these friendships that I made, how much I learned from them- about other cultures, religions, ways of life- and as a result, how much I learned about myself. These experiences humbled me. I didn't walk around like I was better than everyone else because I was an American. Don't get me wrong- I am proud to be an American, just as proud as I am of my Austrian heritage. But I don't believe it makes me superior or gives me any right to be arrogant or self-righteous. Unfortunately, qualities that many people abroad feel that Americans possess. And having seen many Americans abroad as well as here at home, I would agree that many give off that air. As difficult as it was coming back to my home country (interestingly enough, a sentiment shared by many expats- from all over the world- when returning to their home countries) I would never trade these experiences...even though some days I still feel like I am missing out, stuck in Hampton Roads, Virginia. I have to laugh at the saying, "home is where the heart is." I grew up feeling like my motto was "home is anywhere but where I am right now." Now I know that it's where the people you love are. It's a state of mind. It's located in your soul. I am a child of the world. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
So thank you Mom and Dad. Thank you for allowing me the opportunities that I had growing up. Thank you for exposing me to other cultures and countries and for instilling in me tolerance and understanding. I already miss you both and can't believe I can't talk to you everyday as usual for the next 3 weeks. Thank goodness for Vonage....you'll wish you never gave me that number! Below are some pictures from Italy, the only ones from childhood on my computer...
(By the way, this is what sparked this topic, when I was looking through pictures and found these...)