Confusion and the Search for Clarity

I am now in the process of moving, not from house to house, or even from state to state, but from continent to continent. I cannot describe the many emotions that course their way through me as I ponder and reflect upon this great change, this scary journey I embark on. I am still not certain where home is; here in the States, where I've been practically born and bred, or Somalia - the place my parents and ancestors claim their roots. It cannot be stressed enough the dilemma we, the offspring of immigrants, face. To make matters worse, both places do not claim me. I remember whispering to myself: It is not the people, but the land you claim. But it cannot be denied that the people and the places blend to form one state, neither can exist without the other. I find that you cannot embrace one and reject the other, for that is a half truth. That is an incomplete story, an end to a middle. Not surprisingly, my life can be defined as just that.

I do not know if there are answers to my questions, and I grow more and more confused by the day. Who am I truly? And will I ever belong?

I know now that I was born both a stranger and a seeker. Still, even knowing this, it is hard to accept the possibility that I may well be like the tree without roots, easily moved by the lightest of breezes. I remain forever seeking.

And I must learn to accept that. I must.