Home Is Where The Heart Is

Six years ago today I left home at the tender age of 25. To Americans it seems a bit late to be leaving the nest. But if you were raised in an Asian family you'll nod your head in understanding.

I chose to leave everything I had ever known and everyone I loved because I found someone else who I knew would become my most important family member. Someone I couldn't live without. Sure I had known the warmth of other loves and this would be my second time around the block. But I knew my soul was coming home for the first time in my life. So I packed everything I owned (not too much to pack, draw back to living with your parents : they own everything.) and arrived during one of the worst ice storms Portland had ever seen.

I remember when I couldn't pronounce Macadam Ave. I remember having to have my mentor draw out a map of how the city of Portland was situated after I drove well past the DHS office on Ladd Ave and drove all the way into Washington state. I remember shouting "This is not my home, I want to go home" when I would be faced with a one way street or a street that would change names in the middle of driving on it. Those first months were dark, wet, and dreary. And that was just the weather. I often wondered that first year if I had really made the right choice. Then, I would glance across the dinner table or wake up on a Saturday morning wrapped up in Jeff's arms and I would give Portland another chance to win me over.

By summer's end I had even made a friend or two. In fact, I honestly believe that it was purely divine intervention that I landed in North Portland's DHS office. The women who often heard me more often than not mutter "But, but that's not how we did it in Utah" somehow became more than just mere co-workers. These women have attended my wedding, shared meals in my home, bowed their heads in prayer with me, cried with me when I lost my babies, and then cried again with me when I welcomed my living children into this world. Instead of touting I have known them since school age or whatever time frame that people like to put on relationships, I proudly proclaim, that I found kindred spirits in these women. I am forever changed by their friendships.


I'm never going to be Ducks or a Beavers fan. And when the Trialblazers play against the Jazz, I'll be the lady in the Jazz sweatshirt screaming at Deron Williams to kick Brandon Roy's ass and flipping off Blaze the mascot (yeah, yeah I know, I'm classy like that). I'm pretty sure I will never ride in protest along with Critical Mass. But this place is still very much my home now. It will be the place I raise my children, grow old with my husband, and if the Lord willing, live out my golden years. I've come to appreciate if not begrudgingly adopted the tree-hugging, organic-living, liberal, artsy-fartsy, beatnik way of life here. And to quote my husband about my conversion to Portland living : "you are just one Prius way from the full conversion to hippie".