Avni - Week 13: Turn Left, Then Keep Going
I have lived on the same street for 17 years. The yellow bus dropping me across this street. Walking home from the bus on this street. The bed that has grown weary as I’ve grown older on this street. I have changed in endless ways, but this street has stayed the same. A steady key as I’ve grown older, where other households have emptied and filled with new families, but we stay. This street has seen me grow from playing nerf guns or water balloons with the neighbors to me driving back home from school on this very street, and soon, leave this street for four years to call another street, another building, my address. As I walk down, I am enveloped by nostalgia, especially contrasting to my parents’ experiences.
My father attended boarding school, missing out on the sense of home I’ve cherished. My mother, the daughter of an Army doctor, moved constantly, never settling in one place long enough to be comfortable. Their histories highlight how seemingly, mundane, but unique my experience comes out to be.
I got called in for not submitting my proof of residency, which you would think they would be okay with after 17 years of living at the same address, but this needed consistency from the school is more than an address for me, it has become a narrative woven into my life. Consistency that the office or others would never know. “Where do you live?” and “Oh just turn left and go all the way down” seems simple, but it barely scratches the surface. It would never be enough to describe where I live. In this house I have grown, where my brother cut off my thumb, where I have had the same dinner spot since birth, where I have outgrown the ability to hide under the tables in hide and seek, where I had a designated tile to stand on while I chug my milk before running out to the street to play right before the sun decides to say goodbye.
This street is more than just a road, it is a tapestry of my memories and experiences that shape me today. Each crack in the pavement is a story, and every neighbor and house is a reminder of another memory.
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Hey Avni! I love your details of the memories you have inside your home; the way you broke down the importance of the memories you have led me to question the memories I related to different locations in my own life!
ReplyDeletePersonally, I have moved around a bit in my life but whenever I pass through the areas I used to live I feel a sense of nostalgia and that, even if I am more familiar with Fremont because I’ve lived here most recently, I still almost feel a deep, intimate connection with that particular area. Because of that, I like how you contrasted your own experiences to your parents because it added a larger context to your blog that allows me to understand why you truly value living in the same location. I would’ve also loved to learn more about the value that could be gained from moving around a lot versus staying in the same place because I believe it is an intriguing topic with many perspectives to explore.
Relating your story back to the proof of residency we have all been getting called in for also highlighted the relevancy of this topic in your life. Altogether, hearing about your experience growing up in the same area gave me new insight, so thank you for sharing, Avni!
Hey Avni, first off, I would like to commend your vivid writing style in this blog. While reading, I could feel the connection that you have with your home, a result of your usage of creative figurative language and prose. I also appreciated how you intertwined the differing perspectives that others have over your street, such as your school requesting proof of residency. To them, it is a regular protocol, while you may feel that it is redundant. While reading your blog, I remembered something that my middle school English teacher taught us—diction. There is a massive difference between the words “home” and “house.” The word “house” implies a building, while the word “home” holds emotional meanings and connections. Thanks for sharing Avni!
ReplyDeleteHi Avni! I thought the way you spoke about your family and your years living in it was truly beautiful. I want to commend your amazing storytelling and vivid details and descriptions. It fully enveloped me in your blog and made me feel nostalgic. I also want to share my understanding of the nostalgia of always living in one house. Like the moment where you take a nap in the car and you feel the car turn a certain left that settles in the realization that you are exactly ten seconds away from a right turn into your street and five seconds away from your house, it is something I will never forget. My parents' home is one that I am deeply connected to. To the point where even a mention from my sisters to just move is immediately turned down and disapproved of by me. You painted such a vivid picture, I honestly felt like I was right there in your home. Thank you for sharing!
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