Summer Price
ENG-111 26H
January 26, 2016
Taking Flight
I will never forget the day my life changed forever. I know a lot of people say that about a lot of things. I’m sure you’ve heard many earth-shattering stories about death and despair – but mine is different. You see, on this day, I was thrown into the unknown. Alone, scared, and extremely clueless about why this was happening to me. Everything in my life became utter chaos -- quite literally, overnight.
It was a Tuesday. Or maybe a Wednesday? A week day, for sure. I was supposed to be getting up for school. Seventh grade, not necessarily my favorite. Usually Sabine would come in right at 6am, throw my blinds wide open, unlock the window and slide it up to let the cool morning air in. She did this to wake me up, which is to this day the most effective way to tear me out of bed.
But not this morning. Today, Sabine flung the door open and flipped a switch. I awoke blinking at my ceiling light. As I rolled over and glanced at my alarm clock, I saw that it was 4am. 4am? What in the world? “What’s going on?” I asked, sleepily, confused. No answer.
Sabine was my stepmom; she had married my dad when I was four and then blessed me with my little brother, Michael, when I was six. She is your typical German woman: Tall. Long, dark hair. Not big, per-say, but strong, and endlessly intimidating. But she had one weakness; her face always told her heart. On this crisp January morning, she was blank. I remember watching her, straight-faced, slowly walk over to my closet. She pulled it open and pulled a large military-style duffel bag off of the top shelf.
This bag was well known to me; it had been my dad’s in his army days. The deep green had faded to a puke-colored hue. I’m not sure what it was made of, but it was a rough material and was virtually indestructible. It had survived many trips back and forth from Germany to the US. I’d lost count of how many times I’d taken the journey. To visit dad for the summer. To see Grandma for Christmas. Almost every year I’d get on a plane in Frankfurt, Germany, and fly into Washington, DC with Sabine and my little brother Michael to run into my dad’s waiting arms.
Sabine placed the bag at the foot of my bed. “You need to pack all your things. You are flying home today,” She said. I didn’t understand. Flying home? This was my home. This is where I’d built a life, where I had friends and family. “What do you mean?” I asked quietly. She sat at the edge of my bed. “Summer, you need to go live with your dad. He misses you. And that is where you belong. Your flight is at 11am.”
At 12 years old, I didn’t understand what this moment meant. I’m not sure when it hit me that my dad and Sabine, the only woman I had ever known to be my mother, were divorced. Granted, she wasn’t my real mom, but she had raised me from when I was three years old. I felt a wide range of emotions, from sadness of my family’s separation to excitement to be in my home country again. All I knew for sure is that things were about to change for me.
The day was a blur. By 6am, most of my worldly possessions were packed, stuffed into this army duffel bag that I knew so well. Only this time I wouldn’t be coming back. I don’t remember crying much. I didn’t go anywhere or say goodbye to anyone, because I didn’t have a cell phone and all my friends were in school. I just accepted that I would have to start over, but any anxiety I had was overruled by excitement to see my dad.
The car ride to the airport was bad, driving out of our neighborhood, past friends houses, knowing that it was the last time I’d see them, sitting next to my brother, six years old at the time, who did not and could not possibly understand what was happening. He didn’t quite grasp that his sister would be leaving him. Being so young, he was to stay here with his mother. The silence was sickening. We didn’t listen to the radio, or talk; we just sat quietly as our little Nissan cruised along the gray Autobahn.
After three long hours, we pulled up to the Frankfurt International Airport. We grabbed a baggage cart and I held hands with my brother as we entered the brightly lit building. I hate airports. And I was about to be in one alone. See, at 12 years old you can fly without supervision with the exception of a half-hearted flight attendant making sure you are physically on the plane.
Once I realized that this was the case, I panicked. How could anyone send me off on my own? On an international, trans-Atlantic flight, just to hope and pray someone would be on the other side to receive me? This was a nightmare. I’m pretty sure this was the first time I broke down and cried about it. I was terrified.
After we checked my bag, Sabine, Michael and I stood together by the gate entrance. The goodbyes were quick. “We’re going to miss you.” Sabine quietly said, with tears in her eyes. I replied too quickly. My tone was flat and emotionless. “I’ll miss you too.” I was still in shock over all of this. Saying goodbye to Michael was the worst, because he so innocently hugged me tight, convinced that I’d be back soon, tomorrow, or next week. “Sissy will you bring me candy?” He asked in a squeaky voice. He had already forgotten where we were. Sabine sighed and grabbed his hand. “You should go; you’re going to miss your flight.” She said slowly. After a few seconds, she smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll always be here!” We exchanged a last round of hugs and kisses, the three of us, and I walked off towards my gate, where they could no longer follow me.
I nervously approached the check-in counter, where a young woman greeted me. She asked for my boarding pass. My fear must have been written across my face, because as I handed her my bundle of paperwork, she smiled and asked “You look a little pale. First time flying alone?” I nodded nervously, and after she had scanned my ticket and handed it back to me, she said “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get where you need to go.”
After what seemed like ages, my row was called to board. In my head I thanked Sabine for booking me a window seat. At least I’d have something to look at on this 8-hour flight. I’d also packed a book and my good-old iPod Nano, anything to keep my mind off my friends and the Math test I was supposed to take today. I spent three hours watching the clouds roll by below the plane, and by the time they started the on-board movie, I was fast asleep.
I awoke when we started to land. Thankfully, I’d slept most of the flight. The realization that I was about to see my dad smacked me like a ton of bricks. I was so excited! I quickly packed my things up and anxiously waited for the plane to land. When they finally called to exit the plane, everyone jumped up at once. After being uncomfortably sandwiched between a bunch of middle-aged business men running late for a meeting, I stepped out of the aircraft.
I still had to go through customs, but since I was an American citizen, this wasn’t a problem, and I knew my dad would be waiting right on the other side. I could see him smiling at me from afar while I was still in line. Once I was through, I jumped into his arms and he hugged me tight. He looked just as I remembered.
His hair fell loosely past his shoulders, and framed his face which was full of lines from laughing so much. His eyes are more blue than mine, and at this moment his smile extended to them and brightened his features even in the crappy airport light. “I’m so happy to see you, babygirl!” he exclaimed. “Let’s get outta here.”
We picked up my bag, and I followed him out into the attached parking garage. As we got into his Chevy pickup truck, he turned on the country music station. Instantly Brad Paisley’s heart-felt words filled the cab, and we joked and laughed together at my funny German accent as we hit the highway towards my new home.