I am the baby of my family. I have two sisters, one 21 years older than me and the other 5 years older than me. My brother is 12 years older.
I’m so far down in my generation that I am only five years elder than my niece (the pumpkin) and I almost intersect the boundaries.
Being the youngest is both a blessing and a curse. On one side, I had it easier than everyone else and am pretty spoiled. But on the other side, I was bullied by the Cosby-sweater girl (we get along now) and many don’t think I can really take care of myself because I was somewhat coddled. Luckily I have proven that last bit wrong for the most part having lived away from my family for the past six years. Only an hour away, but it still counts… right?
I’ve been to India five times as seen here and had five amazing times. Did bad things happen? Of course. Did good things happen? Definitely. I’m fairly certain that I can handle myself.
Despite my confidence in the matter, telling my parents that I was going to be moving away was more nerve-wracking than the initial decision. How do you tell your parents that you’re going to be a different country for a year or two? I won’t be able to come back for any emergency (unless it’s dire) or attend Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays. Where do I begin?
I started prepping them this summer. Sometime around July I popped a question to them: “How would you feel about me going to India for 6-18 months?” They didn’t say much but I could tell they weren’t thrilled. I didn’t bring it up again for a while. I wanted them to digest it.
I was trying to figure out how to proceed in this situation when suddenly my mother asked me last month what I would be doing with my car while I was gone. This opened a set of doors that made it easier to talk about, though I’ve still been rather vague in an attempt to ease the blow a bit.
People in other countries work abroad or study abroad quite often. Many right here join the military and go someplace else for years at a time. Even following your dreams to go across the country is somewhat commonplace. Why am I overcomplicating this so much? Why do I feel like this is so unusual and I’m doing something wrong?
Last weekend when I went home there was a short discussion where it was spoken of very nonchalantly. I couldn’t help but to feel somewhat hurt. I worked so hard to make this transition easy and how dare my mother not speak about this with tears in her eyes and fury in her voice. She said that she wasn’t angry or sad. She is only concerned. I totally understand. After all, I am the baby. To be honest.. even I’m a bit concerned.
I think I can do this though. I really do. And I hope that one day when I’m old and sitting in a rocking chair telling my grandchildren about the good old days, I can look back and smile about the few years I spent in India.