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As a transport to a new city, the question I get asked constantly is “Where are you from?”
I hate, despise, and detest all forms of the question. Because really, how much do they TRULY want to know?
Short answer: I lived in Nashville for 5 1/2 years.
Long answer (deep breath):
Well, I was born in Dayton, Ohio. I lived in Indiana. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia–no, not Richmond, Indiana, or Kentucky, or anywhere else. Then my husband and I moved to Nashville after college.
Mr. V was born in Pennsylvania, grew up in South Carolina, then his parents moved back to PA but he never really lived there.
Them: “Oh, so your parents are in Virginia and his are in Pennsylvania?”
Me: Oh, no. My parents moved to Pennsylvania about four years ago, and they lived really near my in-laws, but now my in-laws live in North Carolina. And my dad has no idea what’s going on with his job, so only God knows where they’ll live in a year.
Oh, and we go to Dayton for Thanksgiving. All of my grandparents and many of my other relatives live there.
Them: “Um, OK. See ya later!!” (rushes off hurriedly)
It’s not THAT confusing, right?
Heh. Some days I wish we had grown up in the same place, all of our families still lived there, and this was an easy situation to explain. But we’re Modern America, and I’d never trade in any of my life experience, no matter how crazy it is. I choose to believe it makes me well-rounded.
Does anyone else dread being asked this question?