12 August 2024 marks 19 years since I arrived in London. It might seem an odd anniversary to note, but it means that I have definitely lived here longer than anywhere else, including my hometown of Las Vegas. I don't know exactly when my family moved to Vegas, but it wasn't too far from my first birthday, so at most I had 18 and a bit years there. I've also lived a lot more of my adult life here (19 years) than in America (12 years).
Not that it makes any meaningful difference, but I do notice that I am not fully of the place I left anymore. In my mind, America is the America of 2005. Likewise for its cities important to me: New York, Las Vegas, San Francisco. No matter how often I go back, there's a growing sense of discombobulation as places change and deviate from my memory of them. I've noticed this with my friends and family as well. Not that walls have grown up between us or anything like that, but their last two decades of lived experience have not been the same as mine, so our presumptions, perspectives and expectations are not always as aligned anymore.
What it all boils down to is that, for the longest time, I felt like an American living in London, but I don't anymore. I don't exactly feel British - and certainly not English - but I feel more of here than there. All part of the immigrant experience, I suppose - at least the white, Anglo one.
I had thought that this milestone would feel a bit more momentous. But while my years here have made me feel more local, living through the reality of those 19 years dampened the unalloyed joy I once felt. But it feels like something - and I'd still rather be here than there, especially staring down the barrel of Trump 2.0. I guess that's all part of living here versus being on vacation. That feeling can't last forever, and you can either take the rough with the smooth, or you can leave. Will I be here in 19 years hence? Let's see. But I'm not throwing in the towel on London yet.
Cheers,
Shaun
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