“If you move around all your life, you can’t find where you come from on a map. You don’t come from any of them; you come from a series of events. The sad house left behind solidifies in memory to become a monument to a former time, a marker for the place you can never get back to.”
An Ann-Marie MacDonald quote that more or less describes my life right now, at the age of twenty one.
The very fact of me sitting here at 12:47 in Toronto writing this in English is because of a series of events ruled by chance: if Kosova had not been under seige my family wouldn’t have emigrated, if we hadn’t had emigrated I would have happily remained in the place where my parents and grandparents were born. I would have had a typical Kosovar life – with relatives and old old neighbours a daily presence and a lot less confusion. But less perspective. Either way, moving was the first serious event that made me.
I’m not sure what I mean when I say home – home in this house in Toronto, home in my grandparents’ house in Macedonia, home with my grandmother in her Prishtina apartment, or maybe the old house we had in Fushë Kosova? All I can think of the city.
D is probably right. I love the idea of Prishtina, not the actual place. But isn’t that how everyone loves a place?