On May 24, it was 27 years since we came to the US.
I don’t remember much about packing and getting ready for the trip. I remember that family friends gave us a ride to the train station in Riga (we took a train to Moscow, then there was a very long flight to New York, then another flight to the Seattle/Tacoma airport). I remember my best friend seeing me off – she was crying – giving her a hug and getting into the car. I remember that we got a flat tire on the way to the train station. Things like that – snippets of images here and there.
I have not been to Latvia, or Russia, or any of the other former republics of the former USSR since we left in 1994.
Sometimes, people ask me if I miss it…
The thing is – the stuff I miss, I am not sure it exists any more. In any case, it’s not something I could go back and re-do.
The 18-kopeek (cents) vanilla ice cream in a waffle cup (with a piece of paper on top – not sure why – that was so much fun to peel off and lick) that we used to buy a block away from my grandmother’s apartment building. I still remember the taste. Is it still there and would it taste the same?
“Galdejums” ice cream my friends and I used to buy and share in Latvia. Half vanilla, half chocolate, covered in dark chocolate.
Summer vacation – no responsibilities, no homework… Nope, can’t go back there, either.
Residential neighborhoods and little parks.
Forests nearby, where you could pick berries, daydream, and pretend to be an explorer.
My old school. The one in the Far East, it is little more than a pile of ruins now (I saw pictures of the deserted classrooms, old textbooks strewn about the floor).
So here’s the deal.
The country I was born in doesn’t exist anymore.
My childhood was full of wonder, and adventure, and trust that the world was a good place.
But I can’t go back there.
Part of growing up was learning that the world was messed up (and it still hurts to see how the world is so very messed up – see this post here from sweet & crunchy that resonates so much https://sweetcrunchyjewy.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/day-427-fear/).
There is no going back.
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And yet… About going back… I would be lying if I said it isn't on my mind – because it’s been on my mind for decades.
If I do go back, I would go to museums and do sight-seeing, like a regular tourist. I have never been to St Petersburg and I have a feeling I would love that city. I would really like to go to the Baltic Sea and I think it would be fun to visit Jurmala again… If I do go to Latvia, I would probably be able to see some old friends (that friend who came to say good bye - we haven't seen each other since then, but we stayed in touch).
So I don’t know. Maybe someday, maybe never. Maybe, I am a coward for never going back.
Dear reader, do you ever go back to the places of your childhood? Do you dare to see that world – your childhood home, school, or the town you grew up in – through adult eyes? Do you take a risk that whatever illusions you have left will be shuttered, gone, and you would be left with a sense of emptiness?
P.S. Here are links to our immigration story:
https://scientist-on-the-roof.blogspot.com/2017/02/a-refugee-in-america-part-i.html
https://scientist-on-the-roof.blogspot.com/2017/02/a-refugee-in-america-part-ii.html
https://scientist-on-the-roof.blogspot.com/2017/02/a-refugee-in-america-part-iii.html
https://scientist-on-the-roof.blogspot.com/2017/02/refugee-in-america-part-iv-culture-shock.html
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