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Maryam Afnan Ahmad interviews Jo Parfitt about this soon-to-be-published work.

• What are TCKs and why are you so passionate about them?

JP: TCKs are young people who have spent some or all of their growing up years overseas in a country that is not the passport country of either parent. They live, not in their parents’ culture, nor fully settled into their new location. Instead they live ‘between worlds’ in a third culture. I have lived abroad myself for 27 years, since the day after I got married and we have two TCKs of our own now in their twenties. I care passionately about giving people a voice, a place to express how they feel. I wanted a) to let them know people care about their stories ad b) to inform others about this unique group.

JP: It was while I was at FIGT2012 and attended a workshop by Beth McBride, our cover artist, and met Cerine NJ, a Pollock Scholar, attending from Korea that the idea came to me. Cerine handed me a booklet of stories she had written and frankly, I was blown away by the meaning in her words. Eva also read the material and felt as I did. Beth and Cerine are both in their 20s, both are TCKs and both have been profoundly changed by their experience. It was then that I realised, as a publisher, I had the power to produce an anthology and was delighted when Eva and Cerine herself agreed to be involved.

JP: It will fascinate anyone who has lived abroad, at any age and anyone who has ever or still works with them in any capacity. It will let them see into their world.

JP: It brings taboo subjects like identity, home, belonging, loss and grief to the surface as well as the immense benefits to be gained from their experiences. It helps TCKS to feel more rooted in their world and not only proud of who they are but brave enough not to keep their truth secret any more.

JP: That was tricky. 27 seems an odd age to cut off entries, but after much discussion we decided it was at this point that young people truly no longer feel like children.

JP: When we read the entries through for the first time with awe and emotion. And then when we read them again. And then when we read them again. Each time it feels like someone is bashing me on the head and saying, “See?”

JP: This has been a wholly voluntary project. It has been two and a half years in the making and has been very hard work. All those who have been involved have shown amazing passion and commitment to this important project.

I understand what you feel,

and as my heart starts

to stop forever, yours will begin again.

My grief and sorrow override the joy

that brings me to tears

each time I hear your name,

for the darkness is creeping in,

and the light starts to fade,

and all I hold onto is you.

Your eyes, your feet, your delicate, fragile fingers.

Your laugh which now I can only imagine…

It must sound like tinkling bells, or the song

of a bird. Your button nose, small and perfect,

like the rest of you.

Time is running out,

and the only regret I have is the time I could have had with you.

And I cringe now when people visit,

because I am no longer viewed as healthy, sane,

but as frail and withered, and all I can ask for is

Time.

Time to talk,

Time to explain,

Time to apologize for my wrong doing.

I need time before my hourglass runs empty,

before the chance of seeing you blinks out.

My blood is slowing in the traffic of disease,

and I just need you.

If only I had been a little wiser,

more patient,

I would have stayed with you.

I would have spent my life and all my

Time

by your side.

But now, as the last grains slowly plummet to the bottom,

I have one piece of advice for you.

Stop. Wasting. Time.

Anna Busuttil, 13, joke-love-eat

This is one in a series of excerpts from the soon-to-be published The Worlds Within TCK Anthology.  A portion of the book’s profits will be donated to the FIGT David C Pollock Scholarship Fund. 

Chimps have a mental, detailed map of their ‘neck of the woods’. It’s a matter of survival: they have to be able to remember where they found those berries last year and how long it takes to get to safety from any other place.

Although we no longer need it for our daily survival needs, the human brain is wired to make, and retain, a map of our surroundings. And that is why, when we move to a new place, we don’t feel settled until we have developed that map. An article in the National Geographic of June 2014 states, “Each of us constructs a sort of geographical-highlight map of the places we’ve lived.” (p4)

A friend of mine came back from Abu Dhabi where she and her family will move to live this summer. When they went house hunting, her husband had his priorities clear. Looking at the map he said,

‘Here is the Starbucks. Let’s take a 10-minute walking radius around this point and see if there is anything available we like.’

She wondered if they shouldn’t look near his work or her work or the school for the kids. ‘We’ll work that out later. As long as we can walk to the Starbucks….’

Basically, the Starbucks is his safety retreat, his secure nest in the big Ironwood tree in times of stress and danger on the forest canopy floor.

It’s a smart thing to do when we set out to find a house in a new place – decide what you want to be near and start from there. If you know what you want you can work to making it happen: the quicker your map is designed, the quicker you will feel ‘at home’ in a new place.

I bet that this desire to feel settled explains why we humans are creatures of habit. There can be 10 grocery stores near us but we often keep going to the first or second one discovered, over and over again, as if the wheels of our chariot dig a path deeper into known territory. You notice this when you move to a new house in the same city. Suddenly you can’t figure out how to get anywhere because your point of departure has changed. And you discover a new restaurant around the corner from the office because you arrive at the front door from a different angle. The restaurant was always there but your chariot’s ruts didn’t make it those extra 50 meters.

Our first weeks in a new place are busy and emotionally intense, but I think the experience is far more physical than we realise. We are conscious of the mental effort we make as we settle, but at the same time, our bodies are subconsciously doing just as much work, adjusting to differences between here and back there, and noting it all down in what will become our physical mental map of this ‘home’.

If I see a picture of Hanoi, Vietnam, I’m transported there, not just in a visual memory, but physically, even 14 years after leaving the country. I can hear the whining rumble of thousands of motorcycles on the main road around the corner from my house, smell the fish sauce in the air around lunch time and feel the humid air that makes my t-shirt cling to my skin.

As we settle our senses make deep subconscious impressions of our environment that stay with us forever. Perhaps this is a survival mechanism we inherited from our ancestral tribes of nomadic apes: we global nomads create a single meta-map of past and present homes. The maps help us learn from similarities and differences, remember our past in a ‘3D’ way and therefore thrive in our international world.

Contributed by Diane Lemieux, a Canadian/Dutch writer who has lived in 11 countries and speaks 4 languages. Her latest book is The Mobile LIfe: a new approach to moving anywhere. Find her blog at http://diane-lemieux.com/mobilelife/

Where’s “home”? England.

Is it Home? No.

So why does everyone call it that? I haven’t lived there in 5 YEARS! So why do we have “home” assignment and why does everyone talk about how we’re coming home?

I’m sort of having mixed feelings about all this. Sometimes I’m excited, the idea of a foreign country, a new culture, the chance to start again can be so attractive.

But Bangladesh is all I’ve ever known! I don’t know how to live in England! It’s not yet 20 degrees and I’m already starting to get chilblains!

I’ll be leaving behind everything: my whole life; my classmates; my friends; my adopted families.

I’ll be leaving behind Bubbles and Jen. They’re my best friends. I’ve been best friends with Bubbles since I was 5 years old! We don’t even remember how, where or when we met. It doesn’t really matter. She’s my best friend.

I’ll be leaving my new friends as well.

Besides Bubbles and Jen there are another two girls and three boys. I’ve learn’t how to socialize with those guys. How to mix languages and scold the boys for being rude. Throwing bottles at each other’s heads and blaming it on each other, laughing at the boys as they stuff all of the sweets in their mouths when we ask them to hold a bag of them. Ridiculing aunties and Uncles and other kids. We’re pure silliness. But we’re definitely not English.

I don’t know how to socialize with English people. Here people who hardly know me talk about their feelings easily to me. They say I’m easy to trust and give good advice. But I don’t know how to get English kids to trust me.

So even though I’m excited about going to England, I will miss Bangladesh.

I will miss my friends: Adh, Setu, Jen and Bubbles. I will miss all the characters - like You Know Who, one-against-four-girls boy and Bablu.

This is my Home and although I will manage, someday, to make England my home with a small ‘h’, Bangladesh will always be my Home with a capital ‘H’.

Amory Powell

11-13

England, Bangladesh

justathirdculturekid.wordpress.com

Curious - Understanding - Persevering

This is one in a series of excerpts from the soon-to-be published The Worlds Within TCK Anthology.  A portion of the book’s profits will be donated to the FIGT David C Pollock Scholarship Fund.

Being apart often or over long periods of time can challenge the strongest of relationships. Expat counselor Harriet Cannon shares three practical tips to help keep your relationship together when you are apart.

Care in technology use

The way most people use technology doesn’t work so smoothly when they are continents and multiple time zones apart. More visuals such as Skype will help but in today’s world of immediacy, the challenge is having patience to wait, and cherish important news with your sweetheart before you put it out to the rest of the world.

For example, Sue had a two month business trip to Singapore while Juan was home in San Francisco, CA with their baby. Juan put a video of their baby’s first steps on Facebook and YouTube. Sue woke up to congratulations from around world and felt betrayed, not having been first to see the video and share the moment with Juan.

Think before you post or text. It’s harder to patch hurt feelings long distance.

Time zone respect

Relationships can go crosswise with calls or texts to your partner jarring him/her out of a dead sleep to talk about things like tonight’s concert or that co-worker who drives you crazy.

Make specific time zone conscious appointments with your partner and keep them. It gives you both something to look forward to. Sleep time calls should be left for emergencies.

Empathy parties

Sharing in daily life happens organically in a relationship. But when you are apart for weeks or months, the flow gets out of sync. Across the country or world, perhaps a new culture and language for one of you, and double duty with home plus job for the other...

When what you really want is a long distance hug, the common trap of ‘who’s got the tougher deal going’ can get in the way. It’s important to use emotional intelligence, listen deeply, and mine for events and feelings across the miles.

Planning times to talk when you have ‘down time’ is essential and empathy parties will keep your relationship humming until you are physically together again.

Harriet Cannon, LMFT, LMHC is an expat, counselor and coach and co-author of Mixed Blessings: A Guide to Multicultural and Multiethnic Relationships.  She blogs at www.mixed-blessings.com.

As the date arrived, I began to go through major highs and lows. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Even rushes of regret came in like tides, blaming me for the blunder to apply for something I might not be able to handle. Okay, in one sentence; I was so unstable that I felt like applying for the Pollock Scholarship was a mistake. I refused to admit it, but I was truly going though complete madness, yet in the very controlled outside version as always, with others not noticing.

The main problem was that it all felt so surreal. Even packing was impossible. I have never gone anywhere for the past decade, my life was nailed down into the depth of this red rusty soil, with no option to escape. So, why should it be that I am able to go NOW? The overgrown shadows of my inner voice kept me back flat on the ground. Though my flight ticket proved that the nails were gone, my senses were telling me that it cannot be true.

“It’s just a piece of paper. It means nothing. Just ignore it. You are not going anywhere. It’s not for you to go. Stay put. Don’t forget… the ‘good days’ had ended and you already got your share of foreign air. So, just close your eyes and wait for the plane, which is already messing up with you to go away. Then you may return to your ordinary life, once the opportunity is tilted off.”

That was my mother’s voice monstrously distorted in me. Mom was the only stable standard I had all my life, and I was too weak to criticize her. It was her words telling me I have nothing but to be grateful for all the experience that fell on me that were all too great to be enough for the extent of spoilt-ness.

“You were too lucky to have lived in the best places, you know. The good days are over now, no use of talking about them.”

“You already did all the travel, how could you dare to ask for more?”

“Stop clinging on to the past, look what reality looks like.”

“How dare you complain! … You should have never gone ‘out’.”

These were mom’s mantras that I would hear every once and a while since we were ‘banished’ back to Korea. The subject of our life out of Korea was never mentioned in our living-room. Only rarely it was hinted as the ‘good old days’.

It later turned out after my breakthrough to the States that Mom, herself, had been so miserable of our repatriation, sick and tired of Koreans, and was quite unaware of what she was saying or how she was reacting to our past. Her hard words were not for me, but actually for herself, to survive in Korea after we were relocated and dad out of job due to politicking of another group when to company was at risk because the owner was caught doing illegal acts. For twelve years, the only trips available for me were the occasional school field-trips, one day drive to a nearby island once a year, a few sleep-over trips to some parts of the country and a week at Jeju Island. The true meaning of a holiday was even wiped out because dad was abroad, and mom with her own work now, would rather stay at home to collapse on the bed for her given holidays. We even stayed at the same small neighborhood of a bed-town near Seoul. After all those years, I was now finally going out. Back out.

I found it impossible to begin packing until the evening before my departure. Considering the length of my trip, which would be two weeks, I should have gotten things straightened out by then. Wandering around the house for a toothbrush and other necessary items that I know so well from my childhood, in my head, I was fighting by repeat the situation I was in. I got a scholarship to go to FIGT. I mean, I got this excuse to go out and somehow I got flight tickets, and places for me to stay were arranged. Everything was ready. Yes, everything… but me.

Again, I lost track of reality. The fact that I was finally going out was so odd that it felt like nothing. As always, tomorrow would be just another dull day in Ilsan, or some underground going to Seoul. Alas, my inner alarm broke that I must do every single thing to kick me, or else the pricey tickets would become rubbish. I arranged alarms with notes of every single step I were to take the next day on my cellphone so that simply following that will take me to the airport. I had to make something to automatically kick me out.

The next morning, I woke up with this peculiar feeling of soundness. It was as if not a single speck of dust in my room would ever move. My mind absently passed the suitcase. It was the morning of my departure. VERY funny. Everything seemed so settled that I may as if have brunch, read a book and make a cup of coffee for the afternoon. I was completely out of control. It was like floating around in a dream, knowing that it is, just a dream. Then my faithful cellphone gave out a cry. I packed the final set of clothes on the dryer and went out to pick up some booklets I ordered from a copy place. I got on a bus that I was never to ride--the bus that had ‘Incheon International Airport Limousine’ printed in bright red. Looking out, I could feel the only glimpse of reality by the bit of strain in my stomach, telling me that I was nervous.

Arriving at the airport, I acted like a total idiot, asking around about everything. I finally seated myself in a café, when Mom called. She was suffering from Dad’s messages, who himself, was virtually following my schedule sitting at his office in Nigeria and wanted to know what was happening to me by hours (or even minutes). Dad was sending notes of information that even made mom burst into laughter. Reading the preschool instructions, I too, joked that he still thinks I’m 14, which was the last time he was really living with us. Mom agreed that dad could not get over the fact that I am legally an adult.

“Yeah, he always hesitates to pour me Makgoli (rice wine) and just says ‘want to try a little sip?’” 

But he was right. I was not 22, not even 14. I was no more than an eleven-year-old. The little girl locked inside. The girl of eleven woke up to find herself alone at the airport.

As I was guided through every step by my faithful cellphone, my envelope and mind were totally detached. My body was numb. But I could sense that there was an upcoming explosion. I got off the rumbling air-subway, and took the escalator for my final gate in this world. I arrived at a polished metallic hall of clear windows, and that, was when I faced the breathtaking view.- I saw the grounds. The waiting planes. Blinking of vehicles. Men with big headphones with orange batons in hand. A scene that was concealed so deep inside me…

I couldn’t help it.

The picture of the area wavered. I was just facing the exit I dared to dream, but its threshold, I had to hastily run to the bathroom to hide myself behind the closet door.

As soon as the lock made a click, the tank burst. Water, swollen all the way to the tip of my toes, to the head, began to pour out.

Twelve years ago, I had wailed out so hard when I was leaving Poland, although I was really a grown up in the covers of a child, knowing what was happening. This time, I was flooding silent tears, as a child in the covers of a grown up. Clueless of what to do.

My body was shaking as I leaned onto the door locked behind. I saw the vision of this ceiling that was closed above my head for so long. The dark ceiling that was haunting me for ages. The ceiling that would sometimes come so low to squash my lungs out was there as I looked up. And I felt, heard, and saw this beautiful moment of a great crack rushing across the hard surface and finally open to the blue sky. I stared in wonder. The pain was gone as I aggressively bit my jaws in vain to make no sound at this final moment. Tears were tumbling down from long long ago. This time, it was not the tears of fear and uncertainness but, relief. A white airplane flew across the clear sky. I could feel a breeze coming from the crack. And all this was silent.

It took long time for me to stop.

And it took me twelve years, to get back out.

Cerine NJ 21

Hawaii, Poland and South Korea

Moithetique - Wagamama - Daydreamer

1. Work permits.

You need to know the laws governing your ability to work (and in some countries, your ability to volunteer). It can be confusing to find this information online, and it’s often recommended that you seek an international immigration law firm to assist you with the process. However, you can find some general information and links at the Permits Foundation– http://www.permitsfoundation.com/links.htm. This is an excellent site for spouses/partners of international employees, but also provides links for anybody seeking visa/work permit information.

2. Career information and options.

You’ll need to know what types of employers are in the city where you’ll be living. Will you be in a rural area of an emerging country where most nonprofit organizations operate? Or will you be in a bustling metropolis that is bursting with multinational companies? Some of this research can be done online, but you can get better information from others who have lived there or are currently living there, which takes us to…


3. Network/contacts.

It may be challenging to develop a network from scratch, but there are many ways to build an effective network within a month or two. You’ll need to research to find out what networks exist. You may find formal networks, such as Chambers of Commerce. Or, you may find online networks through Facebook or LinkedIn or on many of the expat websites. Or, you may find informal networks, such as a women’s group, or expat sports club. Making contacts is critical to an effective, international job search. Check out our guidance on developing your network on the blog post Get Globally Connected! http://www.passportcareer.com/blog/get-globally-connected.

Contributed by Susan Musich, Executive Director & Founder of Passport Career, a comprehensive, online global job search support system.  She is currently serving on the Board of Directors of FIGT and blogs at PassportCareer.com

Mum and Dad are disappointed; I’m not making the grade

I’ve been sent to Melbourne Uni and the bills have all been paid.

But my work ethic is poor and I’m barely scraping by,

“It’s my tutors, they’re all dicks” to my poor parents I lie.

My friends all seem to manage; it’s no problem at all

to go out every evening, and still get H1’s overall.

I close my door to study… get cosy with my work

but I wind up on you tube, watching Miley twerk.                          (youtube it!)

I’ll sit down with the intention, of crossing “to do’s” off

but before I’ve even started I’m pre-drinking for Toff.                   (local club)

“You’re wasting your degree” my parents mournfully scorn

"We've been dishing out the cash since the day you were born."

Their pocket’s rather empty, after Melbourne Uni fee’s

and that’s not even including Dear Old Col, Trinity.

“Look, at least I’m at Uni, I could be doing worse,

there are countless alternatives” is how I begin my verse

“I might sleep in all my lectures; I might doodle in my tutes

but at least I’m not on stage in latex knee high boots”

“There are poles I could be dancing on, oh the outfits I could wear

Did you know they make nipple tassels out of real horse hair?”

“I could be doing heroin, I’d make buckets dealing weed,

but no, I scroll through facebook, checking my news feed

so be thankful for my H3’s and P’s and 64’s

because I could be on the curb, pimpin out my whores,

still think you’re wasting money, I guess I could drop out”

“No sweet-heart, we support you!” they both hastily shout

“Oh darling, keep it up, we couldn’t be more proud

of your average grades and mediocrity, we both are truly wowed”.

And that’s how to get your parents, to fund your degree

Manipulation, that’s what I’ve learnt, at University.

Alice Coates 20

Theoretically British and Irish - would like to be Canadian!

Countries lived in ... The Netherlands, Bolivia, Chile, China, Singapore, Canada, Spain and Australia...

Adaptable - Artistic - Game

This is one in a series of excerpts from the soon-to-be published The Worlds Within TCK Anthology.  A portion of the book’s profits will be donated to the FIGT David C Pollock Scholarship Fund.

This post is for teens. First off, you should know I tried my best to make a YouTube video undefined because that seems to be the thing these days–but I can’t edit it. So until that is ready, I am communicating with old-fashioned writing.

So, here goes. I am an educational consultant, a former school psychologist (grades k-12!), and a Third Culture Kid (TCK) myself.  I was in three high schools in three countries, so I do consider myself something of an expert on this very topic.

Tip 1: Get involved…out of the box style

Get involved. Do I sound like your mom? Okay, pretend you only have heard this from me. But yes, this is your chance to get involved in any number of activities. There are multiple benefits here. One, you will hopefully meet people. Don’t be surprised if you only meet one or two, or even zero BFF’s. But you will be “out there” getting to know people. People in international communities are super good about including newbies and if you put on a friendly face, you will surely be invited to events and happenings where you can meet more new people.

The second goal of getting involved is to get busy. Almost any time spent out of the house, and away from the Internet and video games, is time well spent. 

As far as “out of the box”… I would encourage you to look beyond what your school has to offer because that is where things can get interesting. When I moved to Oman (age 14), there were exactly 9 people in my sophomore class. 3 girls, 6 dudes. The girls were great and I also made friends with the girls in grade 9. But the teeny tininess of the school forced me to also look elsewhere for activities.

For example, I got involved in the local stables and a Dutch girls’ field hockey team. I don’t remember meeting any BFF’s in either activity, but it gave me somewhere to go, something to do, and new social groups. I learned I loved riding and was lousy at field hockey.

If you have an interest for which you can not find an outlet– make one! Interested in working with a charity or costume design?? Reach out to local embassies, international schools, even Facebook, and I will bet you find a few others who would love to form an interest group.

Tip 2: Choose your friends wisely

I won’t get too much into this because I think the point is obvious. But you know how they say you are what you eat? Well, that’s true but what’s more true is you are who you socialize with.

In other words, yes, you are new and have no friends. But never, never compromise on your standards to make friends. You will find others with whom you connect. Until then, don’t feel like you have to hang out with, well, losers. Friends should lift you up and inspire you– make sure you choose them wisely!

Tip 3: Develop strategies for Bad Days

This is probably the most important advice I would like to impart. When you have a bad day, the worst thing to do is to retreat and isolate in order to avoid your problems or ruminate (go over them again and again in your mind). This means disappearing into the Internet, losing yourself in movies, wasting away while playing video games.

It’s one thing to cultivate alone time–I am introverted and I get the value in this. But, we must be our own best friends and monitor ourselves for when restorative alone time becomes trying to escape my problems time. Other signs of bad days common in teens: overeating, undereating, severe irritability and moodiness.

Having any of these symptoms is totally fine and normal. It is what you do about them that makes all the difference. The number one thing to do is reach out. A school counselor, trusted teacher, parent… I would recommend a peer, but sometimes they are going through the same problems, so they may not be able to provide best advice.

When I was a school psychologist, I often had small groups of friends stop by for a chat and I loved that. They got to learn from each other, as well as have a check in with me. If you are reluctant to approach a counselor, see if a friend will accompany you.

Finally, if you have a question for me, please reach out!

What’s your favorite tip as a transitioning TCK teen?

Disclaimer: This advice is for general consumption and not a substitute for professional mental health advice. If you or someone you know is experiencing extreme distress, seek professional medical and/ professional mental health advice immediately.

Contributed by Rebecca Grappo, an educational consultant and the mother of three grown expat kids. Becky has lived almost 30 years as an expat in Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Portugal, Jordan, Oman, the UAE and Israel. She is now based in Denver, Colorado and blogs at RNG International Educational Consultants.

Grant, a 14-year-old TCK, shares his view of his globally mobile life.

My whole life, I have been moving from country to country, bouncing between cities like I’m in a pinball machine. Though it has at times been very hectic at times, I’ve always enjoyed the fun in pinball. So to answer the question where are you from, I would have to say that I am from a 'pin ball machine flying house'. I’ve been in all climates, handled numerous different currencies, and can recite the safety instructions given on commercial plane rides. Countless times I’ve been asked the question, ‘Where are you from?’, and it’s always been a tough one to answer. Eventually, I’ve come to tell people I am from the earth: from Australia, to the U.S., to Indonesia, to Nigeria, Thailand, and beyond. Everywhere I go feels like home to me.

When I heard this question, I imagined a hot air balloon full of all my belongings: drifting aimlessly through the air without a care in the world. That is what I would do. It has been my dream to see it all, to live life with no regrets, and achieve all I can achieve. In my flying house, I would wander the world, visiting places I’ve been, picking up some old faces of mine as well as past memories, and take them with me to wherever the wind takes me. The hardest part about a life overseas is the fact that nothing lasts forever. You can never know if it is your last year in one place, and whether or not you have to say your good-byes. With my flying house, I would take back all those good-byes and turn them into ‘welcome back’. Time seems to get away from you on earth, before you know it, a year has passed and great things come to an end. In my hot air balloon of a home, time won’t faze me. I would be far above the push of everyday hustle and bustle. There wouldn’t be an end, only beginnings; each day, the first day of an everlasting vacation to a new destination.

My pin ball machine - flying house will go everywhere. I wouldn’t be out of the comfort zone of my own home, because everywhere is home. One thing people sometimes forget is that a home and a house are different. The world is my home. My house is just storage, a home is much greater. But in my flying house, I would not just store my clothes, gadgets, and idle play things; I would keep my friends, my family, everything that matters most to me. Where would I go with all this? It wouldn’t matter to me, as long as I am with the people that matter most to me, and going somewhere, anywhere. As for now, my flying house is simply a plane, moving me from location to location, dropping me into new memories and new faces. Though this is not my ideal flying house, it is all I’ve got. It has given me many unique experiences, countless stories, and have allowed to live the dreams of many, many people. The life of a third culture kid is chaotic and electrifying; and though they already live in a flying house, they sometimes wonder where they would go if the choice was up to them. Some choose to pop their balloon and stay where they are, and some choose to fly back home. I would do neither. In life, I’ve come to discover that ‘where’ is not the first question to address. Memories are nothing if you do not spend them with the ones you love. In my flying house I would travel the world not only to create new memories to cherish forever, but also to bring back the old, for I would not be flying if it weren’t for them.

Grant Simens

14

Australia, USA, Indonesia, Nigeria, Thailand, Canada

This is one in a series of excerpts from the soon-to-be published The Worlds Within TCK Anthology. A portion of the book’s profits will be donated to the FIGT David C Pollock Scholarship Fund.