Tuesday August 21st, I was informed that the host family I would be
temporarily adopted into had, to my great delight, would involve two younger
brothers and one sister about my age. Her name was Rebecca, she was seventeen
years old, and she speaks English very well. Growing up with three sisters
myself I was completely use to having a girl around and was incredibly thankful
to learn that she knew English. Looking back I laugh at how nervous I was at
the thought of meeting my host family.
My hands
shook slightly as I dressed after repeatedly and frantically cycling through
the few outfits I had brought, my girl brain going into overload as I attempted
to find an outfit that wasn’t too dressy or too casual. One that made me appear
sweet and pretty, but also intelligent and friendly. Of course it didn’t say
any of this, but I was about to meet the people who would take me into their
home and after feeling very out of control this was one little aspect I had
complete control over.
All the
students sat in a neat little row of chairs in the front of the room as
families entered and filled the rows of chairs; they as the audience and us as
the main entertainment on stage. I tried not to look at them in fear that I
would wonder which one was mine, focusing instead on a conversation with
another student which we were both paying half attention to. Names began to be
called as students were paired to their family, each one awkwardly receiving a
kiss on the cheek, a gesture we were not yet accustomed to, and giving an
equally awkward kiss to them. I snapped out of my stupor as my name was called.
A delicate looking girl with long brown and red hair swayed up to the front and
smiled as she kissed my cheek. Continuing with the tradition of the other
students I awkwardly stood there; my instinct was to hug her as greeting, so we
stood there for a second in a half-hug cheek to cheek until painfully pulling a
part.
I hauled
my overly stuffed hiking back pack on as she grabbed my other two smaller bags
and followed her to a car outside where my host dad was waiting to help load my
things. We drove to an apartment block, dragged the bags up several flights of
stairs, and entered my new home. Rebecca escorted me into our bedroom and after
getting slightly settled in my host mom bounced into the room and went straight
for a tight embrace and kiss, which I am proud to say I was getting the hang
of. She pointed to herself saying “mama” and nodded her head encouragingly a
few times before saying it again at a louder decibel. Over the next few weeks
she and I would continue to talk to each at increasingly loud levels even
though we both knew it didn’t actually make a difference. A few times we would
just both smile and laugh at how loud we had gotten. It seems like such a
small, almost insignificant memory. But it is memories like this that make me
stare into space and smile at nothing. Those tiny moments that take up a
fraction of the day and add up until you’re looking back at the past three and
a half months and realizing that all those moments have been adding up to where
you are now. 
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