Thursday, September 28, 2006
And my loved one far away
Location: McDonalds. Moscow, Russia.
June 15, 1998
"Hold up, can you hear what's playing? Do you hear the lyrics to the song?" I asked.
We all stopped what we were doing to pay attention to the song playing in McDonalds.
And it's breaking my heart, I know what I must do
I hear my country call me, but I want to be with you
It was eerie, the way those words so accurately reflected what was going on in most of our hearts right at that moment. I struggled to gain composure for maybe the 100th time that day, but I couldn't do it and just gave in, and let myself cry right there in McDonalds, for everything that I had just lost.
I was such a different person than I had been when I got off the plane in Russia, just 6 months earlier. I had been so afraid. It was so cold. And the food was so weird. I ached for home.
After the 22 hour train ride from Moscow to our city ended, she was waiting there at the train station for me. Tanya. The woman who would be my host mother for the next 6 months. She already knew that it was my birthday when I got there and it was the first thing she said to me. And I found a new home.
She became my best friend. She walked me all around the city, showing me everything, teaching me how to use the buses and the trams. She left breakfast cooking on the stove for me every morning and made me dinner every night. She worried about me when I came home late and got excited for me when I got mail. Every night, we talked over dinner for hours. Learning about each others lives and teaching each other about our different cultures. We went to the ballet together and she showed me, with pride, the city's first grocery store (most food shopping was done in markets).
She introduced me to her family, taking me to her brother's house for the craziest dinner parties I had ever experienced. How we laughed at the crush that her 14 year old nephew, Serge, had on me and his mother's constant antics to try and get us together.
Leaving her was the hardest thing I have ever done, not knowing if I was ever going to see her again. I had been sick my last few days there and I do not remember a more miserable time in my life. Trying to pack, but having to lay down every few minutes to stop the nausea. Tanya would come in and try to help me, but we would get jumbled up in our tears and she would have to leave the room.
I was the last one on the train to Moscow when it was time to leave. I had to hug her one last time, never wanting to let go.
"I always wanted a daughter," she said, "now I know."
June 15, 1998
"Hold up, can you hear what's playing? Do you hear the lyrics to the song?" I asked.
We all stopped what we were doing to pay attention to the song playing in McDonalds.
And it's breaking my heart, I know what I must do
I hear my country call me, but I want to be with you
It was eerie, the way those words so accurately reflected what was going on in most of our hearts right at that moment. I struggled to gain composure for maybe the 100th time that day, but I couldn't do it and just gave in, and let myself cry right there in McDonalds, for everything that I had just lost.
I was such a different person than I had been when I got off the plane in Russia, just 6 months earlier. I had been so afraid. It was so cold. And the food was so weird. I ached for home.
After the 22 hour train ride from Moscow to our city ended, she was waiting there at the train station for me. Tanya. The woman who would be my host mother for the next 6 months. She already knew that it was my birthday when I got there and it was the first thing she said to me. And I found a new home.
She became my best friend. She walked me all around the city, showing me everything, teaching me how to use the buses and the trams. She left breakfast cooking on the stove for me every morning and made me dinner every night. She worried about me when I came home late and got excited for me when I got mail. Every night, we talked over dinner for hours. Learning about each others lives and teaching each other about our different cultures. We went to the ballet together and she showed me, with pride, the city's first grocery store (most food shopping was done in markets).
She introduced me to her family, taking me to her brother's house for the craziest dinner parties I had ever experienced. How we laughed at the crush that her 14 year old nephew, Serge, had on me and his mother's constant antics to try and get us together.
Leaving her was the hardest thing I have ever done, not knowing if I was ever going to see her again. I had been sick my last few days there and I do not remember a more miserable time in my life. Trying to pack, but having to lay down every few minutes to stop the nausea. Tanya would come in and try to help me, but we would get jumbled up in our tears and she would have to leave the room.
I was the last one on the train to Moscow when it was time to leave. I had to hug her one last time, never wanting to let go.
"I always wanted a daughter," she said, "now I know."
