I remember being at the airport. My 4-year-old mind at the time still couldn't wrap itself around the thought that I was leaving a part of me, my family behind as soon as I stepped foot on that plane.
The airport was rushing, the people inside were like molecules in a solid, compressed and with little liberty of movement. I felt claustrophobic, but everything seemed like a wonder. Seeing this for the first time ever, made it that much more special.
A tall lady approached my mother and me, while we were picking up our baggage so it can get loaded. She seemed friendly. The kind that leaves you to wondering whether it's real; or fake. Then again, how was I suppose to know the difference?
I grabbed on to my mother's side as if looking for some sort of protection, but I knew that no harm would come my way. At least not from her. She knelt down next to me. My stare followed her descending movement.
"May I ask where it is that you are traveling to?"
"The first world"
What a brilliant reply! I was always listening in on the conversations that my mother used to have with my family about going to the states, and being able to work and live in the first world.
They both laughed, as if saying, "let's hope this innocence never leaves her."
The airplane ride was all a haze. It takes about 16 hours to go from Uruguay to U.S.A.
16 hours that I dedicated to sleep, sleep, sleeping.
It's amazing how one minute I was with my family, saying our last goodbye's and the next time I opened my eyes, I was at J.F.K airport.
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