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.”
I had a laundry basket moment today at work – in the bathroom, sobbing on the toilet hoping no one came in when I was deep in the part where it’s impossible to be silent. I don’t think anyone noticed the red eyes and choked voice when I came back. I’ve not cried in months, I get angry usually, but today was just too much. You almost brought them back to me again here, remembering your basket post.
I’m also an expat, but never really felt America was my home so I can’t think of what to put in my pocket.
Ps I did some garden flower photos yesterday, I recall you wanted to see some a while back?
I shall zoom over, i did want to see your garden. c
Something that I admire so much about what you do here is that you share the downs as generously as you do the ups. I know exactly what you are talking about here. Sometimes, it can feel like you have to invent yourself every day when there are no touchstones to relate to.
Oh that makes perfect sense siobhan.. I also have no mother to follow, she died when she was 49, and me 27, and i think that has something to do with the touch stones.. c
Context is essential, Celi, but we both inherit it and create it; it seems to me that you’ve done both.
You are kind to say so.. and i do agree, we create our context but what of the background, the colour in behind our image, where does that come from.. life is a funny thing and because you study history i am sure you know better than most of us about context and background.. sometimes i would love to sit with you on your lovely couch and just talk about the history of this country.. you teach me so much with your pages.. c
Your authenticity is magical… the way you share brings us all together from our own spaces. I love the way we now all refer to “washing basket moments”, I did so as well in a recent post. I think we have them because we’ve doing ‘stuff’, and then the sadness, stress or whatever, catches up with us, as we’ve been too busy to feel. It’s better to recognise and dignify with a cry the ‘it’s all gone to sh!t’ moment, dust yourself off and move on, the huge danger is in ignoring it, that’s when it manifests in physical ailments/illnesses. Interestingly I recently commented re post about labels, “I’ve had other labels though. Cliff/Polly’s Grandaughter, Janice/Newlo’s Daughter, Little Spook (associated with being Newlo’s daughter)… and now Welshy’s Missus…” some of these are labels from the past, I’m proud of them and no matter where I go or what I do, they’re a part of me… I carry them in my heart and soul. I’d guess you’d have similar, and it is for those you sing your songs 🙂
This is a good point about our labels.. the sitting in the washing basket sure did bind us! it is good to be proud of our names and you are right about that, we have many different ones.. and we sing them c
Sometimes life is wearying for all of us, Celi, thanks for letting us know we’re not alone. Lots of love to you. xx
morning celia darling.. this weblog world is determined that we will not be alone! c
I think the older we get, the more we miss about where we’ve been and who we were. I’ve been feeling very nostalgic lately, probably because my mother just turned 85 and that’s where I’ve been…visiting home…for the last week. I can’t imagine living in another country and the homesickness that entails. Still, it is good to cry every now and then. I think if don’t let ourselves cry it can be very bad for you, and then you won’t wake up tomorrow feeling like it’s a new day and you can move on to the next adventure because and you haven’t vented and allowed yourself some emotional release…a moment away from responsibility. If it’s any comfort, we’re all with you, cheering you on, looking forward to seeing who you are each day, and more of what made you who you are when you go home to New Zealand. 🙂 (p.s., am just starting to catch up after being out of town…so sorry about Mary’s Cat being MIA…that was enough to make me cry!) ~B
Your mother reaching 85 is a monumental achievement , congrats to you and to her.. I am not sure about crying.. generally i just feel wretched afterwards however it does clear the way for another day.. women are so tough.. mercy.. we just haul ourselves back up and carry on.. take care.. c
Singing this to you Celi: WELCOME HOME by Dave Dobbin
tonight I am feeling for you
under the state of a strange land
you have sacrificed much to be here
‘there but for grace…’ as I offer my hand
welcome home, i bid you welcome, i bid you welcome
welcome home from the bottom of my heart
out here on the edge
the empire is fading by the day
and the world is so weary in war
maybe we’ll find that new way
so welcome home, see i made a space for you now
welcome home from the bottom of our heart
welcome home from the bottom of our hearts
keep it coming now – keep it coming now
you’ll find most of us here with our hearts wide open
keep it coming now – keep on coming now
keep it coming now – keep on coming now
there’s a woman with her hands trembling – haere mai
and she sings with a mountain’s memory – haere mai
there’s a cloud the full length of these isles
just playing chase with the sun
and it’s black and it’s white and it’s wild
all the colours are one
so welcome home, i bid you welcome, I bid you welcome
welcome home from the bottom of our hearts
welcome home, see i made a space for you now
welcome home from the bottom of our hearts
from the bottom of our hearts
From a Kiwi at home. We know about kiwis who nest elsewhere in the world….we don’t forget you:-)
Great post. Kupa’s shedding tail mirrors your tear shedding. We have to pass through shedding to welcome new things. This too shall pass…..
You are brilliant. if i remember rightly you are in Porirua, I shall be in Welly in december.. maybe you can pop into the city for a coffee! Us kiwis love our coffee! bring the kids, any kids will do.. i don’t mind! I am copying this out for my study wall.. you are a star! kia ora pepe .. c
We’ve been singing this all term at the local community singing group and there are parts of the song that resonate so deeply within me. Yep Porirua is my city – well remembered! I’ll watch for your dates to be around in December :-))
Heat and fatigue on top of the day-to-day challenges are too much. You amaze us with your strength. Here’s a hug and a smile for you……
It is hot again.. too true.. but the grass is growing.. c
Sometimes I cry, C. I cry for who I was and who I miss, I cry for losing those who have passed on that I will never see again…anyway right here and now. I have such a longing to be someone’s daughter again…and that someone to be my Momma and my Daddy…I miss my Grandparents for I spent many, many, many hours with them. I was one of those lucky kids that had my family right here with me.
I cry..silent and miserable. I live not far from where I grew up….just 20 minutes up the road so to speak. They are all gone, my family’s 160 acre orchard and farm turned into a subdivision, my grandparents 80 acres nothing but houses…everything is gone. Not even a place to go to to get memories.
I understand.
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
http://deltacountyhistoricalsociety.wordpress.com
That must be terrible to see the old farm turned to concrete.. Women are the strangest and most fragile of creatures, we need to be a daughter and a mother and a keeper of treasures but we can be all these only for the shortest of times.. we pack down our memories to keep them, to pass them on, to make them safe.. we have been lucky kids and that makes us lucky adults in that we can roll with the punches.. you have had a few too many this year.. too many punches.. be very gentle with yourself.. I would love to make you a cup of tea and talk about the orchard and your grandmere. love love.. c
Thank you, C! I cried when I read your response. You are such a treasure to everyone who reads your blog! Love you, Dear C, Love you very much!
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
http://deltacountyhistoricalsociety.wordpress.com
(smiles) c
Here’s a story about someone else from NZ who could not be home this week. It was written by a good friend of mine (his wife was Beth’s K-2 teacher).
I think you’ll like it.
Thank you.. i shall read it.. did you see yesterdays post, i was hoping you might be able to identify a frog for me! c
I think it’s a female bullfrog (Rana catesbeiana), but it’s hard for me to tell from that angle. Also, there’s the possibility that there’s a look-alike in IL that I don’t know about.
hmm.. well you would know much more than most of us and there are bull frogs here they say.. c
There’s not much for me to say, Celi, that hasn’t already been said and far more eloquently than I ever could. I believe that a good cry is just as necessary as a good laugh. The important thing is to recognize it for what it is and to move on. Many years ago — and I do mean many — I saw Gloria Steinem, I think it was, on a talk show. She mentioned that there were times when she felt low, as we all do at times. She didn’t, however, waste time trying to figure out why, just like she never tried to figure out why she was in a good mood. She accepted it as a natural state and didn’t make matters worse by stressing over things that may — or may not — be the cause. I’ve never forgotten that interview and realize that sometimes I’m feeling down because I am. Period. Like you, it will pass quickly and I’ll be fine, though rarely with a song. I have a dog and parrot to consider and Animal Cruelty will surely respond should I start singing.
I’m glad you’re feeling better.
I hear you.. best you don’t sing then, i need a trip to the city.. Lucy and i have some catching up to do! That should sort me out! c
The short answer to your question is: “Yes.”
Coincidentally, at the moment I am carless too. (Bob had a crash in the rain, he’s OK!)
I didn’t move so far as you, but 2,700 miles might just as well be a million, and sometimes it catches up to me and I feel what you just described.
~ Lynda
I have just heard that after EIGHT days without a car, it is fixed so i shall drive up to the city tomorrow and get it, if all goes well, I hope you get a car back soon too and that bob is ok.. crashes are scary.. and 2,700 miles is a long way!! c
Sometimes a good cry is good for the soul. If we don’t experience all the emotions we have, life can seem a bit sanitized.
you are so right,, sanitised is not something we do!! c
I’ve had a few of those moments in the past couple of weeks. I stop, look around, and ask myself what in the hell am I doing in Florida? And then I do like you did, have a cry, get some rest, and things look much better the next morning.
you have had so many changes lately, i am not surprised you feel like howling.. c
It sounds like you are really ready for to go home to New Zealand. You must be so excited about getting back there in December. I’ll look forward to those posts as you might even show me places i remember xx
i am going to hunt down a certain olympic pool for you!! c