I stood in the airport, beside my mother, watching the floor. In my peripheral vision I saw shapes moving hurriedly past, as people went on their ways, each heading a different direction in the world. My hands were jammed in my pockets; even though it was late July, I was shivering in the air conditioned building. Staring at my shoes, I considered my appearance: a somewhat scrawny girl, just hitting her teen years, but still giving off the vibe of a little girl.
   

As my Dad returned from the restroom, I drew my attention back to my family. My Mom started telling my brother the usual last minute things: call when you get home, go right to your terminal and wait there, careful on the roads driving home. None of this was new to him, but she had to say it. Finally, she gave him a big hug and started tearing up discretely. We all knew that was bound to happen.

Next, as my Dad gave him a hug, he told him to always keep his passports close, and to not wreck the house while we were gone. Stern, but still light hearted: attributes that may not sound complimentary, but that’s Papa.

Finally it was my turn. Due to his strong, but lean build, my brother gave the type of hug that was secure. I buried my face in his sweatshirt, and let my shoulders collapse, making me feel small, just as I felt. After giving me a reassuring squeeze, we both let go.

Although there was noise all around us, we all stood quiet for a moment, and the sound drowned away. Like the zoom on a camera focused on a single cloud in the sky, all other shapes blurring together into weightless splashes of white.

“Ok, you better get through security,” my Dad spoke.

My brother gave a last look at each of us, said his last goodbyes and turned around. My smile faltered as I watched him walk away, but I kept my eyes intently trained on him until he was completely out of sight. My forehead was creased with distress, but as I turned back to my parents, I willed my eyes to turn to a steely solemn stare.

We started navigating through the crowds of people to the exit. My breathing sped up, as I focused all of my energy on trying to control the in and out of air through my increasingly constricting throat. But it was to no end; I became more and more flustered as my mind took on a will of its own. My overactive imagination taking its toll on my fragile state.

Just keep it together. Make it to the car. Make it until tonight.

I tried my best to compartmentalize all the emotions that were fighting to pour out, but I knew I was losing my grip as my sniffles became more and more incessant. Finally once in the car, I rushed to get my iPod out and preoccupy myself. But how can you escape your thoughts, when they are constantly surrounding you?
    “Can I have a tissue?” I asked my Mom; but on the word tissue my voice broke.
   

My thoughts were a rollercoaster edging it’s way to the top, and finally reached the tipping point. A tears slid down my cheek, and before I knew what was happening, I was sobbing.
   

Not crying, or shrieking, or sniveling, but sobbing long, drawn out, and heart wrenching sobs. My features had twisted into an ugly expression of grief, so I hide behind my hands from the concerned stares of my parents. I wanted to be anywhere else in the world, rather than trapped in the car.
   

As my Mom’s hand rested softly on my knee, my entire body shook. But slowly, after what seemed like hours, I gradually slowed my breaths. Wet cheeks and puffy eyes relaxed and my face was freed of emotion. As I watched things fly in and out of sight out the window, I couldn’t help feeling that I was watching the world go on without me, and I let it.

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Although we would visit at Christmas, it would be a year before my family came together again. My parents and I were moving to Europe for a year, because of my Dad’s sabbatical, but my brother was going back home to America to attend university. I hadn’t wanted to move from the start I had always been an introverted person, and the thought of everything being new scared me more than anything. I was a little girl, and the move was the monster under my bed. And the one thing, or more accurately, the one person, that I wanted to be able to rely on wasn’t going to be my my side. A person I now realized I had unknowingly grown to rely on throughout my entire life! After that year though, I discovered that my brother’s influence would always be with me, and more importantly I had a will of my own that was strong. I knew the difference between right and wrong, I knew the kind of person I wanted to befriend, and after a long and hard year, I discovered the kind of person I, myself, wanted to be.