Something we were withholding made us weak,
Until we found it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
I can't remember the title of the poem, just that it is about being American and it was read at Kennedy's Inauguration in 1961. The more I learn about furniture (for instance, the 342 different types of legs found on a dining table) the more I find those things I used to know about English Literature have slipped off into the impenetrable recesses of my mind. Regardless, those four lines have stuck with me and for good reason.
During my first few days at home I had some significant trouble re-entering my life here. Waiters were uncomfortably friendly, Wal-Mart was overwhelming, traffic was oppressive, and man, the sun was a-blazing. I went to the bank and requested to withdraw forty pounds -- not dollars -- and the large black lady at the counter looked over at me and said "honey, I wish it was that easy!" She chuckled at me all the way out the door and I sat in the car feeling stupefied. How complete can a transformation be? I constantly find myself saying "that would never happen in Scotland" and my mom, bless her, keeps her eye-rolling to herself. It's not that I'm being snooty, but seriously, America is pretty darn weird. I'll be honest: in a lot of ways, I thought that getting back on a plane to Scotland wouldn't be half bad.
And then I drove through the Western North Carolina mountains one evening. I saw the sun glinting off of Shining Rock, the wilderness where my dad and I spent large portions of my childhood setting up camp and exploring; and I realized that the wind through the treetops along the parkway was the same breeze that cooled my face when my mom and I used to take picnics to Pink Beds and lie with our feet in the water for hours. I rediscovered my inexorable bond with this land; it invigorates and sustains me and is the place behind all of my fondest memories. I trailed my hand out the window of the moving car and surrendered. I surrendered to my past, my childhood filled with river-swimming and wondrous adventure, my three rollicking years at UNC, to all of the incandescent, generous souls who have contributed to my growth, and most of all to my mountain home... and in doing so I found salvation.
I am so happy to be here and to be amongst the people who shaped me and who continue to support me as I crash headlong into a life I never dreamed of or planned for myself. You are with me always and I promise that one day I will come back home.
