Memories have a weird way of catching you off guard. Even a whiff of a familiar smell can transport you across the years and countries. Today evening, a friend who recently moved to Germany sent me some pictures and Nostalgia knocked its way straight into my heart…
Germany, July 2007.
My first ever international trip. The first time ever that this 15 – year – old introvert packed her bags to spend the next 6 weeks with a Deutsche Familie. I was terrified, to say the least. A single child was crossing international borders to stay with 3 siblings and 1 dog. All of which was unfamiliar territory for me.
My first memory of landing on foreign ground was walking out of the airport, straight into the arms of a calm and composed father and two extremely excited girls. My next memory was walking mutely behind them into a car that contained my name board. “We made it for you, but in our excitement forgot to bring it along!” And just like that, laughter broke the ice and for the first time since I had landed in this country, I looked carefully at the people who were going to be my family for the next month and a half.
Olaf – the father. A tall, quiet man who smiled so simply and looked over with kind eyes. The man who cared deeply for his family and was always at the door every evening at 5.10 pm on the clock. The father who spent as many hours learning about the rules of cricket as mine does watching it.
Ulrike – the mother. A woman constantly bustling about the house, making sure her three girls toed the line. The woman who chased her daughters to bed and then unwound on the sofa with the mandatory glass of wine. The mother who spoke broken English but who never let go of a chance to have ‘conservations’ with me!
Fenya – the first ‘person’ to greet me into the house that was to be mine. A shaggy dog who right till the end could never decide whether she loved me or just hated having a ‘stranger’ in the house. The only other living being in that house who loved her walks more than me, and thanks to whom I explored so many green spots around town.
Christina – my exchange student. The girl who was absent-minded, had a temper and needed her ‘space’. And yet, the person who made my family hers’ and shared hers’ with me, in a heartbeat. The sister I never had, the sister I now always will have…
Isabell – the peace keeper. A sensible personality, much too older for her age than her 13 years allowed her to be. The younger sister who made me feel comfortable in the house and introduced me to an awesome game called ‘Beach Ball’.
Larissa – the whirlwind. The youngest of the lot, this 11 year old was happy, excited, angry, sad, frustrated and in love with the concept of me, all in one go. She had to shift out of her room and reminded me of her sacrifice every single day; and yet religiously slipped 2 pieces of chocolate under my pillow every single night. Just to make me feel I was home.
It was an experience meeting these people. It was an experience living in their house and adapting to their schedules. I am sure it was an experience for them, having someone who spoke bits and pieces of German, sharing their lives all of a sudden.
But it is funny how we humans connect to each other. How we build relations. And how we learn to sometimes take the worst of someone with a pinch of salt and bask in their best versions. And so it was, with this family.
I lived, loved and laughed my way through those 6 weeks. I cried in their arms, when I missed being back home. I snuggled deep in bed when I was down with a fever. But not once did they make me feel like I was a stranger. They opened their hearts and took me in. A stranger who walked into that house 11 years ago, having gotten a family in return.
Such was their love that 6 years later, when I was in UK studying for my Masters’, I couldn’t resist flying down to Germany just to see all of them. And so I did; only this time, via train but still into the waiting arms of the family. Once again without the name board, but with smiles that had already recognised me while I was in the train. With a dog that still came running outside to be the first one to greet me….and with a mother who simply stood at the door, tears streaming down her eyes and saying, “My fourth daughter is back home! My family is now complete.”
The first time I met this family was 11 years ago. The last time I met this family of mine was 5 years ago. Sitting here on the sofa tonight, I feel them all around me once again. I can smell the scents of the house, I can feel the softness of the carpet below my feet, I see the glowing stars’ wallpaper all around me and I feel their warm smiles looking back at me.
It is funny how certain associations go a long way. How once you have lived with someone, they simply become your family. And then you sit back and wonder how these relations lasted so many years, and you realise it didn’t need any efforts.
Because your family is always there, they never leave. The house will always remain your home, no matter how far away it may be from the one you are currently living in…
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