The Many Homes of Me

This weekend I’m not at home. Or rather, I’m not at the home which I pay the rent for. I’m in one of my other homes, staying with my dad’s section of the family for the weekend. For as long as I remember, my family’s been complicated. At present count I have a father, a mother, a stepfather, a stepmother, an ex-stepfather, and ex-stepmother, two sisters, three half brothers, four half sisters and two stepbrothers. I’m the third oldest of my siblings, my two older sisters and I being the product of the first marriage. It’s safe to say things get a bit messy after that. Long story short, I have fragments of immediate family all over the place. Ooh, I haven’t mentioned nationalities. England, Ireland, Wales, America, Malaysia and Korea are all part of the Young-Jones-Chew-Donnelly-Chin stew. My two older sisters are currently living overseas: One in Canada, the other in Australia.

I’m sorry, am I confusing you? I get confused myself trying to process it all. Because of my downright chaotic family history, I’ve lived in many, many places over the years. I outright don’t remember some of my childhood homes. I’d estimate I’ve lived in at least twenty households. I lived in six different places over the span of my two-year mission, so that inflates the number a bit. It’s still a lot.

I have an absolutely terrible memory of my childhood. If I could hazard a guess as to why, It’s probably that I was never really settled. I don’t have a place that I can definitively call my childhood home. There were a couple of places where I spent numerous years, and those are the closest I have. When I meet people who have had the exact same room ever since they were born,  I marvel. It’s kind of an alien concept to me.

There are good things about having a bunch of places to call home,  I guess. I mean, I think of Wembley as home even though I have no family connections there. Whenever I visit, it’s a freshening change of scene. I get to see a lot of old friends. I get to see what’s changed and developed. To an extent, it’s the same when  I visit different parts of the family.

So yeah, my family’s a mess, but they could be much worse. And I guess I’ve learned a lot from my parents decisions, bad and good. We’ll see how my own family turns out when the time comes.

-Jesse (@BackBlogGuy)



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