Mother Island
why i'm in another country plus other things i'm up to
Most recently I have written about yoga and meditation and mothers and therapy and children and oceans. I have not shared much about my time in Samara, but on Thursday I head back to the states for a few weeks so I thought I would give ya’ll an update on what the f*** I’m even up to. (I barely know, but I’ll do my best.)
In August I moved I moved to Eugene with $135 in my bank account. I had spent 6 months living on a mountain rent free while receiving a tiny stipend each week. That, combined with paying a month of rent and a deposit, left me with almost nothing.
So when I moved to Eugene, I walked everywhere. I used the library for internet. I said no to my housemate’s fun bowling plans. I bought a bag of carrots and splurged on kimchi. I was down to $122 at this point, but in some ways I had prepared for this. While I had been visiting my (now ex) partner’s four lovely mothers, standing jaw dropped at my brother’s towering height, and spending one last week with my best friend in the town we had become adults in, my car had been sitting in scorching Southern Oregon heat with bags of dry goods.
I didn’t know how good of an idea it was to save this food until I was plopped back in the Pacific Northwest for the foreseeable future and felt actual pangs of hunger. For a kid who left their mother’s house at 17 and worked all through college and now had globs of debt, I was scared. I had a dad who could spot me $100, who wishes he could do more, but that was about it. But in my car I had rice. Beautiful mason jars full of rice. For nearly two weeks I ate rice, nori, and kimchi for lunch and dinner.
I needed money fast, so I did the easiest thing. I looked for a babysitting job. It was an accident. I only needed some fast money from a one night babysitting gig. That was the opposite of what happened. We met at a pastry shop. She talked fast and handed money to houseless men. She told me that she was going to Europe and Africa and Japan and they wanted another family member (me) to come along. I know how families go, but somehow yes flew out of my mouth.
So that is why I am here. It was an accident. I’m still learning about this accident. With this job has come a different type of solitude than ones I’ve been used to. I have been missing my own family in a new way. I’ve been feeling gratitude for my humble but magical childhood. When you travel with a family that is not yours, you begin to understand who you are and where you’re from.
This morning I woke up at 5:30am and walked the beach. My plan was to go to yoga at 8:30, but the teacher was not there when I arrived. Pura Vida, as they say. Instead I turned off airplane mode, paid the $10 Verizon Travel pass, and called my mother. I cannot tell you why I did that. We have both set up our boundaries. I haven’t seen her in almost a year.
She answered within 2 rings. I could hear disbelief in her voice—the first thing she said was, “I miss you so much.” She had a vague idea that I was in Costa Rica because of my brother, so I told her what I was doing and tried to explain my accidental job. She told me that years ago she had travelled all over Costa Rica. I didn’t even know this. I didn’t know my mother had been here. I felt company knowing that the person who I am from had been here. A country I am seeing through the eyes of another family became a country I could see in a new way.
We didn’t talk about much else. She told me she is doing better. She has a therapist. I cried when she told me that. We didn’t talk about my brother or my dad or our relationship. We just talked about this land and the people we have met and the places we hope to go. I felt closer to her than I have in so long. I have heard the word rooted many times today. And because language is in my heart and mind at all times, I easily notice when words are repeated in a day. It feels like the perfect word to hear today. I am rooted in my mother, in this island’s long echo of expats and locals. I am rooted in whatever this isolation offers.
We still have boundaries, don’t worry. I had to explain to my grandmother—who quickly texted to say thank you for forgiving my mother—that forgiveness and boundaries are different. I forgave my mother a long time ago.
I am eager to head back to Eugene. As I navigate the next part of life, I feel gratitude to have found comfort in Oregon. I feel like I am going home. And I feel gratitude that I found my mother. I will take whatever pieces she left here with me to Oregon, my home. Her home is Michigan, and it could be another year before I see her again. But I am a little closer to her and that is good.
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If you received two copies of this newsletter, that is because I’m transitioning to Substack. If anyone wants to pay for more content, a large portion (at least half) will be given back to the Eugene community. When I return from Costa Rica, I hope to give back to a place that has become home in just a few short months. And a place I have a feeling might be home for much longer. As much as I love traveling, it is time for me to get back to what I love to do: creating community, growing vegetables, dancing to my favorite music. And I will definitely be eating some rice with kimchi and nori. There are many good things coming.
Thank you for your support. It has been so fun for me to write these newsletters each week (or so). So much love to you all!
Jo
