When I left my home for the last time in August of last year, I carried the essentials. i know because I checked I had everything at least six times. I carried two small bags. My father carried my large suitcase for me. It was filled with what I believed a years supply of clothes should be, plus four pairs of sandals and one pair of shoes. I also, unknowingly carried a letter my father had write the night before, and left in my case while he put in the car. A letter wishing me luck, their belief I would be fine and do well. In my handbag I knew I carried a small silver angel charm my mother had given me the first time I went college. I knew because I carried it everywhere I went.
I knew I carried my parents unconditional support .
I carried the last words my brother spoke to me, three days before I left
"I hate you, but good luck"
I carried my boarding pass, immigration documents in my passport. And also the terror I would accidentally lose them all. I carried in my mind a detailed map of the layout of terminal 5 of JFK airport, and also the terror I would forget it and get lost.
I carried two kinds of currency. Anti humidity shampoo, two novels, about two dozen photos of my family and friends from my country of origin.
I carried myself with as much confidence as I could muster while I travelled, feigning an air of composure I din't really feel.
And my phone still carries the photo of the last glimpse of my family I had in the Dublin Airport. That image is blurred
Thank you for sharing your story! I certainly got a feel for all the things that must have been running through your mind as you left your home for an unfamiliar and distant destination
ReplyDeleteMy favorite part was when your brother told you “I hate you, but good luck.” Haha! He must be younger. My 13-year-old brother tells me he hates me all the time. (I’m pretty sure they tell us that because they’re jealous that we’re so cool.) Your story reminded me of the things I carried to the Dublin airport once. Over the summer, I decided last minute to take a backpacking trip through Europe. I mean like, I decided this a week before I left.. needless to say, it did not go smoothly. I had a really great time and I was with my best friend, Django, but by the end of the trip I was SO EXHAUSTED from longs days of walking and wondering if we’d find a place to sleep each night. We always did, but it was also always an uncertainty. I had one backpack, which carried: a shirt or two, some undies, a camera, a rain jacket, pants, a weird crappy phone, a wallet (also with multiple kinds of currencies), and some rocks I had picked up. And a toothbrush. It was heavier than I wished. On the day I arrived back at the Dublin airport ready to go home and having left Django in France (long story), I was late and missed my flight. So I waited all day just so they could tell me there was no room on any other flight back home, and that I’d have to come back tomorrow. And since I was so tired and spent the whole day alone in Ireland, I totally cried all over the airport. I was like, “Oh God, I’m just going to have to become an Irish citizen and live here forever!” But I did come back the next day and made it home. Although, at multiple security stations, I was asked if I was carrying rocks. I did not want to let go of my rocks, so I told them all no. Boy, those guys are easy to fool! And that is my Dublin airport story.
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