It started when we were coming into land. I could see Canada; the sea, the mountains, the rivers and the trees - a whole world of trees. I could see the place where my sister lived and loved, and had just given birth to my glorious niece.
It was actually happening.
I pressed my forehead against the airplane window. I could remember that first shaky bus trip. I'd pressed my forehead into the back of the seat to steady myself against the memory of pain ringing through my bum. Every flashback, every adventure, every new memory; it had all been for this. I was stepping out. And I was trying really hard not to throw up on my new friend Bill.
It was actually happening.
I pressed my forehead against the airplane window. I could remember that first shaky bus trip. I'd pressed my forehead into the back of the seat to steady myself against the memory of pain ringing through my bum. Every flashback, every adventure, every new memory; it had all been for this. I was stepping out. And I was trying really hard not to throw up on my new friend Bill.
I stepped from the plane into a white tunnel. Please don't throw up, was all I could think. Please don't throw up on the lady butlers.
'Have a good day,' the lady butler said and I smiled because I was listening to someone speak like a Canadian.
'Thanks,' I said and I suddenly sounded like one of those English characters that would show up on Dynasty. I stepped through doors, down stairs, through other doors, along corridors with those flat escalators that make you feel like a superhero. I didn't go on the flat escalators in case they were as stomach churning as lifts; walking was better. I could feel my colour draining from my face and then my body.
I arrived at the luggage carousel and people were starting to look; lingering looks that stayed on my face. The first case I saw was mine and the one next to it. I grabbed the handle with the little pink ribbon, but the case was so heavy it just took me with it, knocking through the other passengers all lined up, (they were pretty determined to be as close to that turning mat as possible).
A nice man, (another one) lugged it off the track. I grabbed the smaller bag, apologised and hurried away.
I stared at a Canadian toilet for ten minutes. It looked like a UK toilet bowl. Nothing, no hurling, but it was there just waiting to erupt. My sister would be waiting. I wedged the sick bag in one hand grabbed my cases and wobbled to customs.
'What is the purpose of your visit?' said the serious lady, doing a serious job, caged in a serious booth. I had visions of my vomit dripping down the glass screen.
'To visit my sister,' I said.
'Is your sister a resident?'
'Yes.' Please don't throw up. Please don't throw up at the booth.
'And her occupation?'
'She's a nurse.'
'You have food items?'
'Yes.' Oh God. 'A soya yogurt and a bag of mushroom risotto I made at home.' Oh God.
'That's OK.' She wrote on a card and handed it to me through the slot. 'Have a great visit.'
'Thank you.' Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
I rolled my luggage across a large area with tape for herding people. A lady flapped a bit of paper, it was just like the bit of paper the customs lady had just given me. She looked at it, nodded and waved me through.
I walked through two totem poles, past a pond and a tree in the middle of the floor, and down some steps. I dragged my cases through a gate, down a fenced off area with other families checking my face anxiously and then through another gate.
And there she was coming through the doors.
My sister.
Pushing a pram.
She was right there in front of me.
And it happened.
I felt my face twist. I saw her mouth start to go, tears falling and we just grabbed each other and hugged each other and sobbed. There was nothing else, just us in a bubble, crying and hugging and feeling my shoulders shake and her shoulders shake and finding a little face looking up at me from a pram.
'Hello,' I said.
I followed my sister out of the airport. The sickness was gone. I was fine.
I was in Canada.
'Have a good day,' the lady butler said and I smiled because I was listening to someone speak like a Canadian.
'Thanks,' I said and I suddenly sounded like one of those English characters that would show up on Dynasty. I stepped through doors, down stairs, through other doors, along corridors with those flat escalators that make you feel like a superhero. I didn't go on the flat escalators in case they were as stomach churning as lifts; walking was better. I could feel my colour draining from my face and then my body.
I arrived at the luggage carousel and people were starting to look; lingering looks that stayed on my face. The first case I saw was mine and the one next to it. I grabbed the handle with the little pink ribbon, but the case was so heavy it just took me with it, knocking through the other passengers all lined up, (they were pretty determined to be as close to that turning mat as possible).
A nice man, (another one) lugged it off the track. I grabbed the smaller bag, apologised and hurried away.
I stared at a Canadian toilet for ten minutes. It looked like a UK toilet bowl. Nothing, no hurling, but it was there just waiting to erupt. My sister would be waiting. I wedged the sick bag in one hand grabbed my cases and wobbled to customs.
'What is the purpose of your visit?' said the serious lady, doing a serious job, caged in a serious booth. I had visions of my vomit dripping down the glass screen.
'To visit my sister,' I said.
'Is your sister a resident?'
'Yes.' Please don't throw up. Please don't throw up at the booth.
'And her occupation?'
'She's a nurse.'
'You have food items?'
'Yes.' Oh God. 'A soya yogurt and a bag of mushroom risotto I made at home.' Oh God.
'That's OK.' She wrote on a card and handed it to me through the slot. 'Have a great visit.'
'Thank you.' Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
I rolled my luggage across a large area with tape for herding people. A lady flapped a bit of paper, it was just like the bit of paper the customs lady had just given me. She looked at it, nodded and waved me through.
I walked through two totem poles, past a pond and a tree in the middle of the floor, and down some steps. I dragged my cases through a gate, down a fenced off area with other families checking my face anxiously and then through another gate.
And there she was coming through the doors.
My sister.
Pushing a pram.
She was right there in front of me.
And it happened.
I felt my face twist. I saw her mouth start to go, tears falling and we just grabbed each other and hugged each other and sobbed. There was nothing else, just us in a bubble, crying and hugging and feeling my shoulders shake and her shoulders shake and finding a little face looking up at me from a pram.
'Hello,' I said.
I followed my sister out of the airport. The sickness was gone. I was fine.
I was in Canada.
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