Where is it good, is there a native land?

This question has and must be thought over by many. Wanderer Luke from M. Gorky’s play “At the bottom” said that for the old people there is a homeland, where it’s warm. Agree with this statement or not – it’s up to everyone to decide for himself.

I also had to ponder over this issue, because I often encountered those who left their homeland forever, leaving for Germany, Israel, the United States. Misunderstanding was replaced in my soul by judicious and calm thoughts about the share of these people, about what makes them leave their homes, friends, relatives, relatives’ graves. I did not blame the condemnation, but I wanted to understand. Looking ahead, I will say that I did not understand.

I remembered how Taras Shevchenko, being in exile, prayed in verse that even a slight breeze from his native Ukraine flew to the dry Kazakhstan steppe, where he was tormented, but did not repent. Yes, unless the Kobzar suffered far from his

homeland? How many people, being in a foreign land, eager to their native places, to their relatives!

The current departures are not exile, but emigration for some reason. But I think that it’s still banishment, only voluntary. The only motive that seems to me to be justified for leaving my native land is the threat to life. I can not accept and understand the other, although I know that people go to more prosperous conditions of existence, and this is their right. Everyone throws all the pros and cons on the scales and makes a choice for themselves.

“Economic emigration” … From this one pejorative name it becomes insulting and painful. Do these people understand that when they are filled with material goods, they will face other problems that it is difficult to solve in a foreign country? Because, no matter how many years you have lived in a foreign land, you will remain an emigrant, which means – a stranger. It is not without reason that the writer V. Maksimov, himself outside his homeland, honestly admitted: “Emigration is a lost life”.

Here is a completely

fresh and real fact from the life of emigrants. Recently, a friend of my parents came to Chicago from Chicago, who left for the United States in 1995. And did not recognize the city, so he, in her opinion, has changed for the better during these years. When she left, she said a sad phrase: “Now I do not have my” city. “I do not recognize Kharkov, but Chicago has never become” mine. “It is we who live here, see all the changes, get used to them, and the city in a new the guise remains to us native.

Motherland… The etymology of this word is transparent: where your kind lives, where you were born, where your parents live. There, where the graves of your relatives. The homeland is where you speak your native language, all the nuances of which you understand, where the songs from childhood are sung, where the culture is close to your soul. No wonder they say: “where he was born there and was useful!” The homeland is where you are understood from a half-word, where you and your people have a common history, common roots, common pain and joy.

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Where is it good, is there a native land?