Before I left my home–my home country, that is–I had bought the biggest black suitcase I could find in the store, as big as the airline allowed. It had been months of preparations including sorting through my belongings, giving away most of my furniture, throwing away a lot of things, and packing a couple of boxes that I was fortunate enough to be able to ship over for free (a friend of my dad owned a company that shipped regularly to America; it’s always nice to have connections when undergoing a huge life transition). In a few months, said boxes would arrive somewhere in the middle of Ohio and we could drive there and pick them up. I wasn’t worried.
In the meantime, there were many, many other things to do.
I would take a train to Frankfurt for my appointment at the American embassy to undergo several interviews, an extensive physical exam, fill out an endless amount of paperwork, and pay a lot of money for my visa application. It was only a few years after 9/11 and trying to move to the USA was, to say the least, no easy feat. I was proud of myself for getting as far as I had gotten. While riding on the train back to my parents’ house, where I would be staying for the next few weeks, I was certain I would get my visa, but there was no way of knowing when I would receive it. I had to keep planning for my move, and, let’s not forget, plan a wedding. The date was set. It’s a bit ironic that among all the things I had to do, the wedding planning, even though it was the reason I was moving, was sort of last on my list - not by choice, but because preparing to move to another country is an all-consuming full-time job.
But, I was young and in love, ready to leave Germany and my old life behind, and start a new life in a place I had only visited twice. I was motivated to get it all done while also attempting to plan a wedding from across the ocean over the phone.
After a few weeks of waiting and having to rebook my flight once, the visa arrived and my departure was only a few days away. It was time to pack my big, black suitcase.
I can’t remember exactly how I was feeling during those last few days before the flight. I certainly was excited and nervous. I was about to start a completely different life. I was excited to finally be done with a long distance relationship and start my life with Brad. And, I was understandably anxious about moving to a new country. It was a mix, but I believe that the excitement for this new life was the dominant emotion. I had said goodbye to friends and extended family, and I had said a tear-filled goodbye to my sister, even though I would see her soon for the wedding. We had lived in the same city for the past two years, seeing each other nearly every day while being each other’s confidants. I knew I would miss her terribly.
The day had come when my parents and I maneuvered my big, black and now very heavy suitcase into their car, so they could drive me to the Frankfurt airport. British Airways - there is a reason why I remember the airline so well - would take me to Phoenix, AZ, on a long, ten-hour flight. The drive and the airport procedures went rather smoothly, and they even accepted my way-too-heavy suitcase at the luggage counter. I briefly closed my eyes when they weighed it and then told them with an urgent expression on my face that I was moving to America to get married and start a new life. That helped. It was then time to say goodbye to my parents. As they were going to join me in Arizona in a couple of weeks to help with wedding preparations, the goodbye was not too difficult. While getting in line for security, it dawned on me that life as I had known it was over, that I might never live in Germany again, never live in Europe, never live close to my family again.
I could feel the tears welling up. I turned around to get one last glimpse of my parents and give them one final wave. Was I doing the right thing? It was a bit late to answer that question. I took another step forward towards the security officer, trying as hard as I could to repress my tears. One more step forward towards an unknown future. This is what I had been planning for for months. I could do this. I had to do this. There was no turning back. I wanted to do this.
When the plane took off, there was no more repressing, my tears started flowing and kept on flowing until the plane reached maximum height way above the Atlantic Ocean.
After a while, I tried to focus on the present moment. I enjoyed being on a plane. I enjoyed looking through the lists of movies trying to decide which one I could watch, food was served (albeit not always the greatest, but still), and all I had to do was lean back and let my thoughts flow or listen to music. The nice lady next to me gave me a smile. I started to relax a little.
The hours went by, and between watching a movie, listening to some music, and trying to sleep a little, they went by faster than expected. We received some refreshments before landing, and the flight attendants came around to hand out some of the paperwork every passenger had to fill out for customs. We had about one hour left, and the plane would start its descent soon. Passengers all around me opened the window blinds and bright sunlight flooded the space. By now, it was night time in Germany. I started to feel quite nervous. Brad wouldn’t even be there to pick me up. My future in-laws would be waiting for me at the Phoenix airport while Brad was finishing up his first semester of grad school in Indiana. I had been missing him, of course, and wished he was there to be the first to hug me. Why did we not plan this differently? How did I get here?
I could feel the plane slowly going down, and out of nowhere I started to feel severely nauseous. While taking several deep breaths, I tried to understand what was happening to me. I felt so incredibly sick. I frantically started to look around me to see if there was a flight attendant close by. The nice lady next to me noticed that something was going on and asked if I was ok. I briefly mentioned that I felt some nausea. It seemed to get worse by the second, but it wasn’t just nausea; there was tingling all over my body, especially in my legs and my arms. What was going on? I started to take deep breaths but didn’t realize that I was breathing rather fast. I felt like I was about to pass out. I had never in my life felt this way before. The tingling got much worse and it seemed that I lost sensation in my legs. I couldn’t feel anything. My panic worsened and I yelled out for help. I was literally paralyzed from the waist down; any attempts to move my legs failed. The nice lady next to me tried to comfort me, a flight attendant came rushing down the narrow aisle and put a plastic bag over my nose and mouth telling me with her strong British accent to breathe slowly and to try to calm down. I tried. I tried so hard, but I was incredibly scared. I couldn’t move my legs. I was paralyzed.
To be continued.
This is part one of a four part series I call “Searching For Home”. For the past couple of weeks I have been thinking a lot about home, what it means to feel at home or not feel at home somewhere. I moved around a lot when I was young and, as you just read, moved to a different country in my twenties. I have felt homesick for places I only visited and not felt at home in places I lived for many years. I want to explore this topic through storytelling and reflections. Part two will be published in two weeks. So, if you want to know how this story unfolds, make sure to subscribe so you won’t miss it.
Items Of Note:
I decided that from here on out, I will write about photography-related topics every other week and tell a story about my life, express my thoughts on life or personal reflections the other weeks (images will always be included), at least for the most part. The topics will be similar to what I have been sharing, but I am trying to keep it a bit more organized while hopefully interesting and diverse at the same time.
Wonderful to read the emotional upheaval of leaving home to start a new life in another country-such a tumultuous experience. When I moved to NYC after school I had similar tumult. I drove there with a boyfriend—such a mixture of excitement and dread…can’t wait to read the next chapter. Great writing…
I'm really glad you are sharing this and delighted to listened to you relay it in your own voice. I look forward to reading/listening to each part! Your images are so beautiful!! I have a serendipitous side note which I'll inbox you about.