Ding… a light turns on, and the pilot says, “Please fasten your seatbelts; we are 30 minutes away from landing.”
All of a sudden, the windows show several clouds, and as the airplane goes down, I can see the Eiffel Tower and the rest of the lovely city that is Paris, France, entertaining my sight. First flight done, now onto the next one.
Due to my father’s job, I have constantly moved from one country to another since I was seven years old. In the beginning, it seemed fun as I got to experience beautiful places and travel constantly. However, sometimes you long for one, and only one place, to call your home.
For some, Ikea, Midsommar, and meatballs might remind you of Sweden, but to me, it’s a whole different story. For me, Sweden meant living in a country where I went to school in the dark and came back at 2 p.m. only to realize it was dark again, which, trust me, was not a thrilling experience.
However, I always reminded myself that as soon as the snow got too high or the days became shorter, my whole family would reunite in Chile for Christmas — my home country, where sunny days, hot weather, and delicious completos await me.
After almost a year and a half of living in Örebro, my family decided to move back to Chile, but that did not last long. After a year, my father got an offer to move to another country.
This time, the tickets had a less than expected destination: Zacatecas, Mexico. This cycle kept repeating for 14 years. Every three years, my family would move to a different country or city. This meant faces that I would leave again and again and again.
Somehow, I got used to it due to the constant reminder that I would be able to go to my safe place at the end of every year. This was a reality that made me count the days until I would finally go back home.
But could I really call it that?
From what I remember, every December meant I was visiting a different version of Chile, but it never used to be like that. In the past, we would travel weeks before Christmas and getting off the plane felt like an adventure. The thought of it coming to an end sounded scary.
Four years ago, this plan completely changed. We started delaying our arrival due to every family member’s schedule. The stay got shorter, and now we only had time to travel for two and a half weeks. The following year, it was 10 days, and so on. Eventually, we reached zero weeks. Most of us are in university, and the school year is different everywhere; we were growing up and out.
This year, for the first time, we will not be returning to what we used to call our home because the definition of it has long gone.
It might sound sad; we relate home to warmth, family, and happiness. However, I have yet to find the meaning. As long as my mom, dad, sister, brother, and Chiquina — my chihuahua — are with me, then I guess that is what the definition is.
Now that it is Christmas time, it’s cold. There is no travelling to Chile, and there will be no warm sun. How does this holiday sound exciting?
If I closed my eyes, I could not picture the image of a white Christmas. As I step into a dream, I visualize my grandma cooking alongside my aunts and my dad. As I walked past their ghosts, they were all gone. The kitchen was gone, too. Towards the left, going upstairs to the TV room where my cousins, mom, and aunt were watching a movie, I realized they had turned into dust as if they never existed. Every memory I have collected throughout the years has now been replaced with a void to fill.
Back to reality, I realize I have pictures from a collection of memories that build my dream Christmas. Yet, it makes me hopeful. It opens doors to the world of a grown-up. A reality everyone has experienced or is yet to experience. However, it’s the unknown and what we don’t know that always makes us uncomfortable.