Haven’t written in a while. Seems like summers are a bit too much for me lately. Summertime is when my sister comes to visit from Virginia (her new chosen home).
I remember when I was a kid, I dreamed of moving to California. Never once did I think of my family and how far away I would be. I never went. My guess is that even though I never thought about the distance, three things kept me here: my two sisters and my little brother. Then again, if everyone stayed where they were raised and close to family we would never have any immigrants or stories of how someone’s ancestors came from other countries.
Still, it is so difficult to have my sister away. A quick 10-hour drive is all it takes for me to get to her house. I keep telling myself, “As long as she’s happy and following her dreams, that’s all that matters.” This mantra does not take the sting of distance and time away…Away from her, away from my nephews…
So now it’s your turn…tell me your story of family immigration, distance and time, and of those brave people in your family who have paved the way to new lands and places to chase a better life and opportunity.
lonewolfgen 
I totally get this feeling! I’ve been wanting to move to California for a few years now: I love the beach, the vineyards, the sun. And the wonderful gay-friendly, diverse culture. But I don’t seem to have it in me to leave the Chicago area and make that leap. I think I won’t miss my family, but I know it would be harder than I expect. It must be sad/hard having your sister live so far away when you’re close like that.
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