My Name Is

I still have all those pictures that maybe one day I'll upload to make a blog post, but lately I've been feeling a bit uninspired to do anything but eat chuches and wear multiple pairs of socks. Winter has come earlier than I'd expected it to (not that 50 degrees and cloudy is winter but still, it's December) leaving me in need of a puffy black vest to keep me warm and strange Spanish study habits to not fail my finals.
But along with those situational needs has come an annual thing, something that affects me every year regardless of where I am. My mom calls it "the Winter Blues" and for a couple weeks it gets me down and makes it hard for me to do things like type for longer than thirty seconds and smile. Luckily I'm learning how to combat it by surrounding myself with people who give me hugs and/or chocolate, but being productive is still a bit difficult.
I've recently found that some of my favorite people to give me hugs and/or chocolate here are the members of my host family. Making friends has proven to be a bit of the challenge (big surprise, Hannah's having trouble getting along with teenagers even on the other side of the world) but especially lately I've been growing closer to my host family.
With my family thousands of hundreds of lots of miles away it's nice to have a brother to watch TV with, a mom to gossip with, a dad to discuss politics with, and a sister to laugh and color with. Even though she's only 9, Ana and I have this cute little bond that means we can keep secrets together, do homework together, watch Disney Channel together, read silly books together, and snuggle each other awake on those mornings when we're especially tired. I'm very lucky to live in a house with such a similar family dynamic to my own, and even luckier to get on with the family itself.
It's a different bond than that which I have with the my American family, for sure. I mean, I've only known them for two months, we barely speak the same language, and they already had established a family relationship long before I came along. So, while they may call me a daughter or a sister (which makes me tear up and want to give everyone hugs) and I may call them my Spanish family, they're a different kind of family than what I've grown up with, and not just because they look different.
This is not bad in any way. In fact, it's actually rather awesome. I get to have homes in two different parts of the world, two sets of trusted adults to help me, and two sets of kids my age that I can do everything from bickering to making cookies with. It may contribute to the tearing sensation inside me that comes with being rooted in two completely different places at the same time, but that's one of the reasons I went on exchange- to become a world citizen.
My name in Spanish makes me feel very much like a world citizen. Hannah, pronounced with a Spanish accent, is my Hebrew name, which represents my religious and cultural background filled with learning to give to the less fortunate and eating with family. Leah is from my mom's mom, and it gives me the grace and stubbornness from that side of the family. Goldstein is from my dad's family, the part of me that's loyal and just a little bit insane. And, finally, the name that my host parents have started calling me by- Castillejo. That is from my Spanish family, which has taught me the importance of stability and exploration. I also have an incessant need for order and a natural rhythm that I'm starting to suspect is the Spaniard in me, and it just took this exchange for me to figure that out.
I love my name and what it says about me. It shows my family over the continents, and even helps explain some of my attributes. Being so far from home, though, has made me realize how much I really do love America, so I think I need just one more name- one to show my pride and sense of adventure, an American name. I'm thinking something outrageous like "Murca" but no one has ever called me that except myself that one time about 3 seconds ago. I'm not in any sort of a rush, though. What do you guys think?
Even through these pesky winter blues I'm finding contentment in my family, both new and old. They make me who I am, and finding contentment with them helps me to find contentment with myself which I guess is one of the most important parts of growing up.