Olga clutched her coffee mug on the terrace, stealing glances at the cars that seemed to appear “out of nowhere” from the corner of her eye. She would have loved to lean back and stretch out, watching what she so loved to see.
“What if it never comes?”
Albert had already called twice to ask if she could sense it yet. She couldn’t lie. She didn’t want to.
She was in her mid-twenties when her friend Jen moved to Australia. Jen excitedly described the feeling that overwhelmed her when she arrived in Sydney. Jen knew instantly: she had arrived. This was her home. And Olga envied her so much. She had never felt like that.
Olga fell in love with a small Mediterranean town in high school. Within a few hours, she knew: she would go to university there. Only there; no other option existed.
She was passionate about the town that recalled Turkish historical times, every building, every square. She couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else. However, when she received her diploma, suddenly something broke. That thin, fragile little root she had clung to snapped under the weight of the end of an era. She had no choice; she had to leave. Without farewell or tears, she stepped onto the next square.
As a fresh graduate, the only option was the capital city. She didn’t want to earn less just because she lived in a rural area. She quickly picked up the pulse of the metropolis and felt the big city life was hers. She loved her first home, crossing the threshold every day with happiness and pride. She couldn’t imagine her life without the multitude of clubs and the always-accessible services and shops.
Olga shrank back against the wall, fearful of the crowd surging beside her. She was afraid it would sweep her away and she’d be unable to find her way out among so many people. Had she changed, or were there always this many people around her? Her friend laughed and explained that Olga had simply become unaccustomed to the capital.
There was no need to tear away the few years’ worth of small roots. As the baby growing inside her grew, they dissolved. Maybe they had never truly taken hold.
The two little ones ran around, laughing in the schoolyard of a town belonging to the capital’s suburbs. The kids were not yet interested in face painting or group games. Olga tried to blend in at the family day event, but no matter how hard she tried, she felt like an outsider.
“Will they be attending here?” asked a mother she knew from the playground, nodding toward Olga’s children.
“I really hope so,” Olga nodded. “After all, it’s the best school. Plus, it’s just a few minutes’ walk from our house.”
But as she said the words, shame washed over her. She felt like she had lied straight to the woman’s face. But where else would her children go if not to the best institution in town?
It didn’t take long to find out that the children started school in the opposite end of the country. In fact, even kindergarten. Back on that family day, Olga had no idea that a good business opportunity would have the family packing up and moving in no time.
Olga had arrived at the first place where she couldn’t fit in. Like a puzzle piece accidentally mixed into the wrong box. No matter how hard the diligent hand tried to place it, it always turned out of place. Root? What root?
Exactly four years to the day, she arrived at the next stop. Olga trembled with excitement because she knew: this was the place.
There was one thing she knew about herself ever since she met Jen: she wanted to live by the water.
Granted, she was standing on an ocean shore with Jen when this realization hit her, but that was perhaps irrelevant. The lake is also water; it’s also alive, and it’s also captivating.
She stepped dramatically into the spacious, bright kitchen. With a face radiating joy, she waited to be flooded with the “I have arrived” feeling. Even days later, she didn’t become impatient, as she figured after so many restarts, the mind surely needed more time. A year went by, and then, in jest, she said: I am rootless.
Olga stood under the shower to wash off the salty sand. She could hear the children downstairs fighting over who should bathe first, as they always did when they returned from the ocean shore. Then, suddenly, the realization hit her. How could she expect the “I have arrived” feeling when she had already admitted to herself that she was rootless? Why should she want to arrive when she already knew that this island wouldn’t be the last stop? Why should she ever put down roots if she couldn’t and didn’t want to? Who did she need to prove anything to? She never wanted to build a house. Nor to spend fortunes on the one they had, to make it perfect. What was wrong with feeling at home anywhere, but truly tied to nowhere?
She quickly dried off and ran out onto the terrace. She plopped down into the garden chair and watched the ocean, the island across, and the cars on the hillside appearing “out of nowhere” with delight.