Thankful

Last week was perhaps the closest feeling I have to being ‘in’ a family for the longest time.

Armed with my tickets and a bag full of clothes I didn’t realize I might not be able to use (of course, I couldn’t use shorts in the snow—but I brought it anyway, just in case *wink*), I braved traveling 1,416 miles from Miami to go to Detroit International Airport. (Sure, I was just from Costa Rica a week prior to Thanksgiving but international flights are much simpler and less crowded). With absolutely no idea on US domestic travel how-tos, it took me awhile to get my boarding pass to my boarding gate. Tired from carrying my big bag—including the fact that it was the last flight out because I still had to go to work earlier—I waited for my plane to arrive…anxious about what to expect. Scared that they might not like me. Weary about the snow. Excited about the upcoming sale. And hungry for some real food.

The first step in Michigan soil (or concrete for that matter), my nose almost fell off. I knew it would be cold but I didn’t expect it to be reeealllyy cold. Still, I pretended that I wasn’t cold at all. I did have my jacket in my backpack, but I didn’t want to look so pooffy so I didn’t bother. Stupid girl. Then I realized l am so lucky to be living at Florida—a weather paradise.

I can’t even explain how I felt being there. Nice is an understatement. More than being welcomed, I felt I was part of the family.
And then I realized how much I missed my own family. Being able to sit in a table and talk about nonsense. Laughing about anything and everything. Looking back at memories and getting the smile. I miss all of that. I miss the bickering, the petty fights, the cheers and the food my mom used to cook. I have only been here in the States for four months, but I feel as if it has been ages and ages ago since I left home and started living alone.

And as I sat there on the dinner table—eating Tita Alots ham and Tito Dante was making his ever famous Margarita while Dave was eating half of my plate —I felt I was home. Again.

I know there’s a lot that I am thankful for—and on that Thanksgiving Day, I just let out a sigh. Too many to mention, too many people to thank. I don’t even know where to start. The wind that brought me here, the people who helped me along the way, the pain I had to suffer to get to where I am now—everything—I am thankful.

I look back few months before this day and I can’t help but be proud of myself for what I have become. The stresses of having to relocate by yourself is too big a mountain to hurdle. But I realized I wasn’t alone in that ordeal—and that it was up to me to either feel good about it or not. I am more comfortable now being in the place where I am at. Occasional crying is still part of it, as one may never really fully recover from being taken away from the comforts of your own home. I am taking this ‘challenge’ a day at a time. Soon, I will be settled—braver to go to the doctors, or eat out alone, or go to the grocery on a weekend, or take a stroll around the park—but until then, I will continue to survive at my own pace. Learning along the way. Realizing that I should never use hot water in the washer or else my clothes would shrink one size. And that I should never leave plates unwashed on the sink for 2 days or your house will stink. Never be ashamed to ask for help. Cook your lunch the night before so you wont have to wake up early. And that I will never be able to do what most Americans do—taking a shower the night before and leave home the following day straight from the bed...because my hair will give away that fact.

Five days in Michigan made me realize how much I miss my family. Yet again, five days in Michigan made me realize how good it is to have a good solid family. Not yet so soon, but I hope to have my own too. And if and when I do start my own, I’m gonna make sure that my children can look back and say the same thing I am saying now: that it is soo good to be in the family that I am in now.

To my big fat ass friend who kinda invited me to Michigan (kinda means I kinda invited myself too), I can never thank you enough for everything. For everything that has happened and for everything that will happen. Who would have thought that 8-year old classmates would grow up to be best life buddies? 21 years of friendship and counting, I hope to add more to the years of memories.

Thank you Thanksgiving Day—for giving me 5 days of no work day and 5 days of being able to look 28 years back and realize how blessed I am.