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Writer's pictureMaeve Padian

MOVING ABROAD IN YOUR 20s: How my Mom has Impacted my Travel Journey

Sandy beaches, tanned surfers and swimmers, fascinating wildlife, and hilarious, laid-back people.

 

Australia captured my heart the first time I visited back in 2020. At the time, I was on a delegation trip to an inland, country-town called Toowoomba. From the minute I stepped off of the plane and out into the warm air filled with some of the loudest birds I think I’ve ever heard in my life, I knew I would grow to love Australia more than I imagined. My host family was hilarious and so kind, and the girl I stayed with is still one of my closest friends to this day.

 

Fast forward four years and here I am again, sitting in the library at Bond University, writing to you about my series of events that has placed me where I am now. The bustle of the café toward the library entrance is full of Aussie chatter, and the sun is shining brightly onto the extended infinity fountain that runs through the center of campus. Students and staff casually sip their coffees as they go about their day, taking time to slow down and hang out in the aircon before going back out into the sweltering sun.

 

Upon my return to Australia, I felt a range of emotions. I had just studied in Ireland for the previous three months, and much to my surprise, when returning home to Dallas, I felt….underwhelmed. I had gotten so used to the hustle and excitement that came with each new day in a foreign country. To be sitting at home again without the community I had just spent the last six months building was disheartening. I felt quite certain that the solution to this issue was to simply hop on the next airplane to the next place.

 

However, in spending time at home, I also realized how much I missed my family. One thing that particularly pulled at my heartstrings was the last night I spent in Ireland with my grandmother (I just started tearing up thinking about it!). My own mother was quite the nomad back in her day. From Paris to St. Maartin to Pennsylvania to Nevis, she somehow ended up settling down in Dallas, Texas. While her family is mostly still in Ireland, she is the furthest out of their bunch of seven. My mom is only able to go home once or maybe, if she’s lucky, twice a year. While sitting at Nana Peg’s kitchen table eating Digestives and sipping Barry’s tea, we talked about her childhood and her decision to move away from Dublin to Italy to teach. I admired her strength and bravery in moving to a foreign country during a period when social media and Facetime were not at the fingertips of the world. I also began to think about how for my twenty-one years of being alive plus a few more, my mom had not lived near her mom.


 I felt a quiet sadness creep over me as my Nana’s voice drowned out. When my mother was my age, she was traveling like a mad woman to any country that would allow her entry (in a good way- haha love you mom!). Looking in the mirror, I could begin to see the resemblance in my mother’s life path with that of my own. I looked at my Nana and wondered if it had been hard for her to have my mom so far away for so many years. I know that they miss each other dearly, yet I also reflected on how many lasting and life-changing relationships and experiences my mom had throughout her life because of her decision to travel.

 

During the Christmas season at home, I continued to think about my mother and my grandmother. As depressing as this might sound, on the quiet nights sitting on the couch with my mom, I secretly wondered if this would be the last Christmas in which I would still be “home.” I looked at her as the fire crackled, trying to observe if she herself was thinking the same thing, or even daydreaming about her past Christmases in Ireland. Did she regret leaving Ireland, or was she content with the new family she made across the sea?

 

As the days neared for my departure to Australia, I began to cling a bit tighter to my family. Time was slipping away, and it seemed as though in the time span of about three days, my sisters had grown about 8 years! As much as I desired to return to Australia with almost every bone in my body, there was a part of me that felt as though my life as I had known it was coming to an end. The comfort and community of Dallas was now merely a memory and past time that I had once experienced. I knew I didn’t belong there at this point in my life, yet being home made it more and more difficult to acknowledge that. As time had passed, the chapter of my childhood was nearing the very tail end.

 

The day before I left arrived in the blink of an eye. My sisters gathered around my bed as we joked, laughed, talked, and packed. I’ll never forget driving my sixteen-year-old sister to Target to get a few last minute bits (and Starbucks, obviously) and sitting in the car just talking to her. There we were, hanging out in the parking lot, and I could not believe my ears. This little girl that I had always cherished as the youngest Padian sister was suddenly giving ME advice. She now spoke with such eloquence and wisdom, both of which insinuated the inevitable: She had grown up, and I had too.

 

I drove home thinking about time, and how fast it had been going. I thought about the days that I had missed in my family’s life. I thought about my own mother yet again, and how difficult it must have been for her to be unable to drive over to her mom’s house when something exciting or devastating happened. To be a new mother with little babies, and to be so far away from her own family. My heart began to hurt a little as I thought about my own future, and how at this rate, I was taking the travelholic path myself.

 

As the departure day arrived, I woke up with a spring in my step. After all of this time and all of the imaginary scenarios and experiences from my Toowoomba days, I was finally off! My bags were packed and somehow ended up closing as we rolled everything out of my little bedroom. My dad pulled up to our house to drive me to the airport, and I knew what I had been dreading all along had finally arrived.

 

I looked at my mom and saw my Nana. I thought of all of the times they had said their goodbyes and see you later’s, and my eyes welled with tears. More than anything, I felt a helplessness in reassuring my mom. As much as I wanted to tell her that I would be back, I couldn’t. I knew myself, and I knew that there was no guarantee that Dallas would ever be my permanent home again. She glanced around at my face and gave me a hug, and I wondered if she felt as though she was watching her own self about thirty years ago. From my crazy curly hair to my adventurous and outgoing spirit, I’m quite sure we would have been split images standing next to each other at the same age. We hugged and sniffled for what seemed like forever and not long enough at the same time. I left my bedroom with my two overpacked suitcases, a guitar on back, and a lingering homesickness for my family that I knew would never quite go away. I jumped into the car and waved goodbye to my mom, slowly realizing the infinite adventure that awaited beyond the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport.

 

On the plane over to Australia, I watched the movie Brooklyn. This honestly put into perspective how normal and common it is for a young person to move away from home, and highlights perfectly the pros and cons that accompany it. The main character leaves a small town in Ireland (ironic) to start a new life in New York yet is incredibly homesick and lonely for the first bit of her stay. Eventually, she finds community and grows to love NYC, only to return home to Ireland for her sister’s funeral. As she leaves for New York again, saying goodbye is even more bittersweet as she is now married to someone in the States. Her mother begs her to stay, yet the young woman realizes that she now cannot sacrifice what she has made for herself elsewhere, no matter how much she might miss her family or hometown. The bridge between her old life and identity and new life is simply a medium-sized ship and a whole lot of ocean, yet the distinction between who she was and who she has become is like night and day.

 

Traveling is one of the most incredible, thrilling, life-changing, educating, difficult, amusing, energizing, draining, and wonderful things a human being can possibly do. It takes a lot to look at the world you know, full of comfort and ease, and to decide to close that door in order to open an even greater one. It takes bravery and trust. Trust in yourself, in your intuition, and in God’s plan for your own life. I can guarantee you that while you might miss your family, or crave your favorite meal, or even just wish more than ever to cuddle up on your couch at home, what travel offers you far exceeds any of these temporary problems.

 

It is okay to feel homesick. In fact, it is a beautiful thing to miss a person or place so dearly that you might be brought to tears at the mere thought of them. And just think, after meeting more people and establishing new places in your travels, you one day will be just as teary-eyed thinking about leaving these behind.

 

As I sit in bed typing up the ending to this entry, I think once again of my Nana. Her bravery moving away from Dublin to Italy, and then ending up in a tiny airport town in County Clare away from her friends and family. She took a leap of faith with my grandfather and built her community in Shannon, just as my mom did in Nevis, Dallas, Ireland, and pretty much everywhere she touches. I’m in awe at the wanderlust and perseverance of these two women and know that if they were able to pave the way for travel and adventure, I would be foolish to ever suppress my deep-rooted desire to do the same. Though Nana and Mom don’t see each other very often anymore, the riches that they have both gained in their lives of travel and moving are indescribable. The pride that my Nana has in the life that my mom has lived is clear to anybody who speaks with her about Mom’s novel of stories, just as my own mom will talk dearly about her home in Ireland.


 

Home will always be there for you, but time will not. If you’re thinking about traveling or moving, yet the fear of missing out or being removed from your home is holding you back, my advice is to just take the leap and say yes. They do say that the best things take the longest time, and there are thousands more philosophical sayings about the most difficult things being the most rewarding. While I’ve only been traveling for about seven months now, I can say from the bottom of my heart that each person I’ve met and adventure I’ve taken have permanently impacted me for the better.

 

Say yes, and watch how many doors you didn’t even know existed open up for you.


Then, call your mom and tell her you love her :)

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