A Goodbye

Over the last months we’ve been cleaning out the apartment my parents rented in Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca since I was eight years old.

Little by little we sold furniture, donated stuff, and packed up the things they wanted into plastic bins that we sent to the states with a fellow missionary that still drives to the U.S. As it got more and more empty, it didn’t feel bigger, but smaller. The place I grew up in became a cement house with dirty walls that haven’t been painted in twenty one years.

I was dreading the goodbye.

You see, once I leave Tlaxiaco I have no reason to go back. Most hometowns are full of family, but here I am, the only Klein in the country, realizing more than ever before that love doesn’t make you from somewhere. Just because I love Tlaxiaco and I grew up there doesn’t mean I’m from there. It’s a weird feeling to realize that I am from no where, that no matter where I live, I’ll have to explain myself to everyone who dares ask where I’m from.

So, we’ve established that I’m a strange and odd hometown-less person. But what a privilege to have grown up in Tlaxiaco! It’s a biggish small town, up in the mountains, and it’s never too hot or too cold. The pine trees smell absolutely wonderful, especially after a fresh rain.

the appartment I grew up in, and my name in the sidewalk cement

I got to walk in the rain to art classes held in the local ‘house of culture’. I would sit there, working on an oil painting as the dance class paracticed their local folk dances the next room over.

I would eat icecream in the park with a friend, or go drink coffee at a local coffee shop that only opens at night. A couple times I got to explore the old convent next to the catholic church, and climb on the roof and watch the owls fly out from the belltowers. I’m pretty sure, now, that we probably weren’t supposed to be there, but it’s still one of my fondest memories.

I got to run around with the artsy, ukulele playing crowd for a little bit. I got to grow up in an absolutely fascinating place and I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.

Saying goodbye to the closest place I can get to home is hard, but to be honest, I always knew the day would come. I actually got much more time there than I thought would be possible, and for that I’m glad.

So here’s to Tlaxiaco, forever in my heart and my memories.