Do you ever feel like laying your head flat on the table and just bawling. Just close your eyes and lay the whole side of your face onto the table and cry. Not where people can see you. Not as an exhibition. Maybe, when you are alone in the kitchen cleaning up after the dinner that you spent hours preparing in between everything else. Or when you are picking the dinner from the gardens. Or out walking. 
Usually we are tired when it happens. Last night it was when I was walking the dogs. I had a washing basket moment. I stood with my dogs watching the grass grow in this incredible dripping heat and just cried. 
I miss home. I miss being a kid or a daughter or someone’s sister. I miss being the mother and the teacher. We even miss when we were Not in charge and Not so bloody responsible. Not having to make the hard decisions and see them right through to the bitter end. The precarious progression of our days.
It is called being a grown up. But being a grown up in a land where no-one knows who you Were is hard. All they see is a little woman in gumboots. I have no context. No background.
It is hard to be a foreigner in a foreign land. Many of you know this. Many writers are in some kind of solitary. Many Webloggers. Maybe this is why we are drawn to each other. But when TonTon and I stood and watched the grass grow I cried with a head shaking tired longing. I just bawled until I was finished.
Then I started to sing. I know we know that is crazy. Who would sing to her grass. But no-one was around. I think that secretly you might sing to your garden too. 
That is why you and I are friends. My voice was not the big soaring voice it used to be, a voice needs to be worked like a muscle, but as I sung, the dogs and I turned, and began to walk back to the kitchen.
I think this is why I love the farm and the gardens. They all know me. And a sheep has no need for background though they have heard all the stories. But the sheep and the dairy cow and the little hereford, even my border collie, they remind me of home you see.
And this is why we love our cats and cows and bicycles. Our dogs and our plants. This is why we have our cameras and guitars, our paint brushes or pens. Our tools and boots. Our ideals and oaths. Our stories. Our little work. Because we all need to hold on to who we WERE and practice that person when we are alone, or who we are NOW makes no sense. 
And we need to always carry a little bit of home with us in our secret pockets like a polishing stone. So when the washing basket moment hits we can reach into our secret pocket and grasp that stone from home. So we can find our forgotton voices and sing the songs from the sea.
Good morning. I wrote this last night before going to bed. Today is a new day and every new day we get another chance. Thank goodness. So of course I feel better today. Strong and fit and ready to go. I look forward to taking you all home with me to New Zealand in December. Then I can show you a little of who I was. Who I am.
I still do not have a car, did I tell you? My little cooking oil car is still at the garage far away. I am driving the rusty white truck but not too far as it is pretty rattly and wholly unreliable.
Have a lovely day.
celi
On this day a year ago.. A bridge. Images of the underbelly of a bridge.
Even more exciting -there is a story: Part One of a very funny story from the beach. Part two is tomorrow but if you have time you could read it today as well. In fact I am going to read these again when I come in from the farm work. This story will cheer me up and remind me of where I came from.
c
The Kitchen's Garden 
145 responses to “Being a stranger in a strange land, carrying a little bit of home in my pocket.”
Reblogged this on bridgesburning and commented:
Celi’s lesson in surviving and flourishing in the darkest moment!
Chris.. thank you, now i had better get busy with the flourishing bit!! c
Oh, Celi, hugs, wrap around you, clenching hugs. We all have our moments and that is OK because it makes us feel so much better afterward. I had mine the other day, after my youngest who is five hours away at his first year of college, snarled at me when I phoned him. He called later, apparently feeling bad about his behavior. But in between, I held my head between my hands and sobbed.
Now, after two days of people and frogs crying, we should be good for awhile, right?
Yup we should be up to date. You and your son are both dealing with huge changes. Well done for giving him some space to call you back when he was settled down.. c
I worry about you. Washing basket moments are all very well but the lock on your Box of Things to Keep Hidden, which you wrote about some months ago, seems to have been compromised more than it should. Maybe it’s our time of life when children have grown and we become adventurous and take on new challenges to fulfill us in a different way. I guess that new adventures come with a price. Take care and get that lock replaced!
Christine
Yes the Little Boxes in my head were leaking!! I have battened down the hatches.. all good now.. gosh you have a good memory! c
I remembered it because you put into words something which I couldn’t express.
Christine
You have the unfortunate luck to have been born a human being.
Being human means having all kinds of moods and feelings. Sometimes we equate these with a particular event. But most of the time, I’ll bet, everyone has them and understands how you feel.
You situation has no right answer; if you had not moved here you would have missed out on all the life experiences here. And John.
And we would never know about Daisy, Ton Ton, and Kupa. Not to mention the Shush sisters…
So RE-welcome to the US: I am glad you’re here!
Thank you Ronnie. Missing your home is not the same as not wanting to be where you are.. We are all lucky enough to be able to have a good cry now and then.. you are such a wise woman.. c
Here’s a hug Celi. I know how you feel and love that you can be so open and honest. I may have only changed states and not moved out of the country, but I share in your feelings. Moving to Florida where no one knew me, to moving again to another place where I share no history with anyone, they only see me as I present myself. It does make one feel alone. I’m glad we share this connection, through our posting and sharing. I’ve learned alot about you…you’re a special woman!
morning honey, with your latest major relocation you will understand so well. i hope you don’t feel too alone, lucky we all have each other in this busy and silent Weblog World. c
Cecilia, having time to yourself is not at all the same thing as having time for yourself. Keep the former, if you must, but increase the latter. Art withers when left on the vine. It is the most delicate of wine grapes, meant for sunny days on southern shores. It is good, solitude. But to being known who one Was, means one must still Be her. You can and are. Show the woman beneath.
She is here, in your words. Sunshine is wonderful. But art grows in the heavy rains. Your rain will mean your grass will start to grow anew. I will stand here, silently, and watch it.
Beautiful inspiration, Bill. I can not say it any better.
I can however send a hug your way! Looking forward to seeing your home! Do you have any footage of some of your performances I would enjoy seeing them!
J
Jess, thank you for the hug. No there is no footage of the stage work, stage is nothing on film. there is probably some footage from the short film period around but not here, it is all in NZ of course.. Suffice to say my legs were longer and my hair was much curlier in those days and we had tons of fun.. c
Ahh, well! It sounds delightful!
Yet, the best is yet to come..me thinks.
Jess
Bill you have a way with words.. A way of challenging us all.. c
An excellent post. You really described that “bawling your eyes out” feeling that we can all identify with. I remember sitting on my porch one night and having a similar cry. Having a sweet dog there is the only creature that can provide comfort. Even if they aren’t touching you, their quiet, listening presence is more supportive than any human could ever be. Love to you from afar.
Morning Anna, it is true about the dog, they just wait until you are done.. no problems.. c
Celi, while you draw breath and your brain works you cannot be separate from your life, who you have been as well as who you are now: you carry it with you in your memories and in your cells: you carry it in the way that you respond to a particular smell, which makes you think of a place and time. New Zealand life is both a story for you and an experience lived in your bones, just as Illinois life must be by now. Sending you love. — Sharyn
Thank you Sharyn, I was thinking of you when i mentioned the guitar, it seems such a part of who you are.. I must pop in soon and see what you are up to.. c
Sometimes we all need one of those good cries. They are cathartic. And I love that you ended by singing. I think singing has a way of lifting your heart up a bit. Glad you’re feeling better today. And I’m glad to know what I know of you through this blog. 🙂
Kristy you are a lovely woman, i hope the kids have a good day at school and you have a great day doing whatever you can.. c
Is this just a woman-thing–to let everything pile up and then go off and have a good, rousing cry that feels like it just cleans you out, and you can pick yourself up and go on? I don’t know, but I expect it is. Feeling for you, Celi. I’ve been there–not as a foreigner in a foreign land, not in the literal sense, at least, but an emotional one, in times of loss or change or just because. I wonder if you aren’t grieving for Mary’s Cat, too. I hope today is a better day!
You know Gerry, i was going to ask the same question, but forgot, is this just a woman thing? I have seen men cry and for some reason it is much more heart wrenching to see. Or is that me just assuming a stereotype.. good questions though. Today is already a better day.. c
I am having a day like you had last night- hope it goes away soon – glad you expressed it in words so I do not feel so lonely in my tears – but this too will pass
By the look of all these wonderful comments you are Not At All Alone! It will pass.. this is the knowledge that keeps us sane.. c
It feels best to cry alone, doesn’t it? Your writing resonates with me this morning.. Although I’ve never moved, the “stuff” that I do is important because it’s my creative outlet. I’m glad you’re feeling better today, I have no doubt you could be exhausted doing what you do.. xx and hugs Smidge
Morning smidge.. your ‘stuff’ is extraordinary.. I am not exhausted just having a weepy moment.. all good now.. c
Hahaha.. that was me projecting my exhaustion on you I think!! Have a great day!!
Yes. Oh so very much. Thanks for this, c. ((hugs))
thank you desi, you wonderful writer you.. c
boy did you hit a resonating note!
High E I believe! c
Remembering Boarding School homesickness, and even a longing for home briefly when away abroad on holiday! Sad to think of you crying on your own …. when I’n sad and fed up with my life I escape to blogdom and The Farmy and others, and always come away feeling better. Hope today was better again, keep on singing – we hear you 🙂 Laura
Laura you are a darling, Today is better, the beginnings of days are always the best.. c