I've recently started thinking more and more about my roots.
Most of my family is back home in India, a place I've never really appreciated, yet I think about all the time.
The Last time I was there I was 16, and for the first time I saw the city my father grew up in. It was a beautiful bustling seaside city nestled along a mountain side.
I saw the few acre's of land he left my family and how we were about to sell them. I thought about how he did so much for my mom, Sister and myself and how little I appreciated it until I saw it.
Immediately I told my mom not to sell it. I told her someday I'd become some important man like my father and build a beautiful house on this land and bring my family there during the summertime.
Now I'm 25, making decent money and I'm nowhere closer to this goal than I was when I was 16. I guess theres still time to make it happen. It just brings me a little sadness thinking I've spent so much of my life getting away from my culture only to be drawn back to it.
This time last year someone close sent me a shortstory she was reading for school or work about a Chinese girl inviting a caucasian family over for Thanksgiving. How her family was about to serve a traditional Chinese feast, how afraid she was that the boy coming to dinner would be disappointed to not find what he was used to (turkey, stuffing etc.). Spoiler, he was disappointed.
The story continues as the author's mother tells her to never forget her roots, that this is who she was and to be proud of it. It ends with the author retrospectively thinking on this incident, realizing there was nothing to be embarrassed about, now she embraced this culture.
Now I think about taking that special someone to that same empty plot of land. Staring at the mountains and the sea.
She'd see me tear up, watching me realize the gift my father gave me.
Years later we'd take our family to a beautifully crafted home on this plot of land, watch the kids (and maybe pups) run around kicking a soccer ball, jumping in the ocean (hopefully the water is clean enough).
I'd take them around the city my father grew up in, walk the streets my father walked. All for the sake of giving them some part of me.
There is nothing I've got when I die that I keep.
It's just unspeakable love.