Thursday, June 17, 2010

Family Reunion

I was in Germany for a few days before Shakira triumphantly announced that my sister-in-law Nicole would be arriving the week after I left. Juuust my luck. I thought about changing my flight and staying in Germany. I'm was in sore need of family. As I've already mentioned, RyanAir sucks, and due to their suckiness they wouldn't allow me to switch the dates of my flight. So I just bought another round trip ticket and resolvd myself to spend a week back in Italy, agonizingly awaiting the flight from Treviso airport that would bring me back to my favorite country in Europe. The week passed painstakingly slow. I thought every day about how Nicole, my niece Kayla, and my nephews Jazzy and Isaiah were coming, how I'd hear they arrived in Germany and know they were closer than they'd been in 6 whole months and I still had to wait to see them.

The other passengers must have thought I was suffering from a crack addiction. I sat on that plane shifting in my seat. I was wringing my hands like a person in pain, shifting in my seat and looking all uncomfortale even though the flight was only an hour long. I was seconds away from digging trenches in my neck. I was simply that excited. Try to understand my position. I've been living in Italy for 6 months and haven't spoken to any of my family members save my parents, and I'm a girl whose number one priority is family. For the past month in Italy, I've been living with my Italian family. To be amongst a family is refreshing to someone whose lived in a young adult compound for so long, but at the same time it is a constant reminder of the one I've left at home. To sit on that plane and know that part of my own family was about to be reunited with me, something I'd been counting down the days for, was one of the most intensely emotional times of my life. I could picture my little buttheads (niece and nephews) seeing me walk through the terminal doors. They'd run up to me and jump into my arms; I'd cry. Then I'd hug my sister-in-law who'd faithfully reassure me that I don't look any fatter even though I know I've turned into a house. I couldn't wait. Literally. I had to have been freaking out the other passengers with my antsiness.

When the plane landed I was smiling. When I walked off the plane I was beaming. And when I walked through the terminal doors I could hardly contain myself. I looked around, anticipating the arms of my buttheads around my legs. I scanned the small crowd at Frankfurt Hahn. My smile slowly drooped off of my face. They werent there. Instantly, the anxiety started. It came on in waves, probably because I'd been so excited on the plane. I thought they forgot me. Maybe they just forgot I wasn't there. Maybe they knew and rethought visiting with me; maybe they didn't want me there. I resolved myself to sit and wait on the steps, hoping they were just late. I waited, and waited, and waited. I got a pretzel and waited some more. I didn't want to be the annoying person who called to check up and see where they were. I was afraid to call and remind them if they forgot. I was nervous, but after about 45 minutes of waiting I knew I couldn't sit on those stairs much longer. I went to the stupid airport payphones I've had trouble with before. After it ate 3 of my Euro I finally got through to Shakira's house. Heaing my sister-in-law's voice made me almost want to cry. She was sleeping, but the rest of them were supposed to have been there already, she said. And a few minutes later, they came.

I hugged my niece and nephew and kissed them on their little butt heads so hard I gave myself a fat lip. I cried. I've had some serious ups and some serious downs on this trip. The ups were realllllly far up there. But seeing my family... I haven't been happier yet.
Arrivederci, for now.

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