Just like that, I was gone.

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Due to unforseen circumstances, I have been unable to write to you since I have arrived in Moscow. But finally, here I am.
I am a compulsive journal-er, and could sit and write forever. My problem, though, is that often, I am filled with inspiration but have not a pen... or paper... and I commit the horrible crime of not capturing words, motions, and emotions in their time, before they slip out of mind forever, or the memories lose their potency.
I will try my best to recall for you the beauties and wonders, great and small. I will try to display for you the world I have seen lately as vividly as when I was first struck by its inspiration.
I say "struck" because inspiration is not always a sweet spirit descending as a dove... Haven't figured that out yet? Come to Moscow...

Friday, 20 June, 2008.
Gordon Greene. He's a really nice guy. Only met him once in my life, but he did something incredibly kind that I will not forget. Thanks to Gordon Greene, I was able to spend my whole last day in America with my parents. He surprised us by giving them each security passes so they could wait with me at the terminal for my flight. This is a rare thing, due to the security restrictions in airports nowadays. But Gordon said he could "see it in their eyes" that they weren't ready to let me go completely. I can't tell you how special that made me feel. I had not spent a lot of time with my parents in the past year or so. But in the several hours before my departure, I felt like we made up for a lot of it. Thanks, Gordon.

It was just what I needed, because I am actually kind of a nervous traveller. I get really excited. The excitement is a good thing because it helps smooth out all the tough kinks and stresses that are inherent in travelling. The only problem is that I am the type of person who gets to the terminal and realizes her passport is in her checked luggage... which is already on the plane... Those of you who know me, know this. 😊

The hours passed, and we had strolled through most of the international terminals, downed some delicious, overpriced coffee, and were making our way closer to Terminal #8.
Sitting between my mom and dad on a 2-seater bench, I watched all the planes coming and going. Our arms linked with one another, we wondered to each other about the millions of people who had passed through this terminal before me, and about all their wonderful--or not so wonderful--destinations. With my head on my dad's shoulder, and my mom's hand in between mine, I felt them sending their love ahead of me, so that I woudn't be anywhere without it.
About 10 minutes before boarding time, we scoped out a place closer to the boarding area, where we could stand ready to say our goodbyes.
The three of us kept exchanges glances, knowing the other was thinking, "This is it! This is it!" My dad's face full of light and excitement, but I knew that he was feeling like he didn't really know where he was sending me. During these moments, all you have in mind are unmet expectations... I myself wasn't even sure where I was being sent.

I turned my head toward the screen which I had been carefully watching for several minutes now, and, finally, the words "GROUP #5" appeared at the bottom.
I hugged and kissed my parents, each more than once. "I love you's" from my mom. "Remember your roots" from my Dad.
I turned my focus onto getting out my passport, my boarding pass, and whatever I might need in the next ten seconds... I glanced at my parents once before moving forward in line.
I glanced again, to make sure they were still watching; they were still watching to make sure I glanced again.
The lady returned my documents, I blew a kiss to my parents, and just like that, I was gone.

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