And the Homesickness Kicks in!
My last blogs were all written in different cities of Armenia with a nameless street. This one in particular has a street, it’s Glenoaks Blvd. At the end of the street you will find a small campus by the name of Woodbury University in the heart of California. As I wait for my turn to introduce myself and tell the class about my summer plans, I wonder where I should begin, which story I should tell my classmates and professor, which memorable kid I should talk about, which city should I describe, which funny story I should narrate, which participant should I talk about…
There is so much to tell. They had to know about my new best friend Vahe aka varounk, they had to know about how Adrienne got baptized, they had to know how Arpa and Patil became sisters to me, they had to know about Vache and his kind-heart, they had to know about Hrag’s everlasting smile, they had to know that Shavo was first our designated driver then he became one of us, they had to know how Sevana my kuro and I have plans to open a business in Armenia, they had to know how Nazeli stepped in cow poop, then they had to know about how Adrienne, Sevana and I were invited to a kid’s house and how well we were treated there, they just had to know these and so much more…
It was exactly 1PM, on a regular day in Armenia we were probably lining the kids up for lunch. Now I am sitting in a classroom impatiently waiting to inform my class about my best summer ever. After this, another class, and after that an AYF meeting. A regular-routine life, that doesn’t have any excitement. There is nothing to be impatient and excited about. There is no one that will welcome me with a flower anymore, there is no one that brings me shemushka, there is no parent and child that will beg me to come to their house, there is no new city that I will go to next to have another jampar, to meet other youth, to influence a new bunch of kids, to teach them a new song or even yet come up with a new ganch. And there it struck me, that I was back in America, and yes I was already homesick. I wasn’t surrounded by all Armenians, I wasn’t going to spend my night singing revolutionary songs, I knew that I wouldn’t have to sit in a taxi and calculating how many drams I should pay, and I knew that in the morning no one will be there to tickle me, to wake me up.
A month ago, my parents were miles away from me, now my home is 11,564.75 kilometers away from me. How could I not be homesick? I don’t see Ararat, I don’t see the dome or the steeple of Shushi’s Gazachetsots Church, there are no drivers busting U-turns or cutting in front of people, I don’t see men selling watermelon on the streets, there are no women putting laundry on wires, there are no hyper children surrounding me… Although, I wish that youth corps was a year round program, it inspired me even more to study hard and graduate fast, so I can search for a job and live the rest of my life in my HOMELAND.
– Verginie Touloumian
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