It’s July 24, 1995. A little over two months ago, I turned 16.
Right now I’m in the jetway that connects the airport terminal to my plane. I’ve said goodbye to Mom and Dad, my baby sister and my friends that came to send me off. I’m walking away from them and I can’t turn around and look at them. If I do, I know I won’t make it onto the plane; I know I’ll run back into the terminal and tell them I’ve decided to stay; I know I’ll start to cry and I don’t want them to see that.
I’m about to board a USAir flight that will take me to Pittsburgh. A connecting flight will take me on to Los Angeles where I will stay for a week with my mom’s sister and her family before I fly off to Australia as an exchange student. For a year. I’ll be gone for a year.
I make it onto the plane and into my seat. This certainly isn’t my first time on a plane, but it is the first time I’ll fly alone. I still like to sit next to the window and the lady who I’m next to doesn’t mind swapping seats to accommodate me. All settled, I watch the bags being loaded onto the plane. Soon we’re backing away from the terminal and the plane turns perfectly so that I can see all my friends and family standing at the windows, waving goodbye. They have no idea where I am on the plane, or that I can see them, but I wave back anyway. Crying now is ok, and so I do.
A week in LA flies by and I’m on off to Australia.
A year in Australia flies by, and it’s time for me to return home.
It’s June 14th, 1996. One month ago, I turned 17.
Over the last few days I’ve gone around and said my goodbyes. I visited some of the other exchange students in the area, and talked about how we’d keep in touch. I went to my last Rotary meeting and thanked the club for hosting me, promising to write. I spent an evening with my friends from school, feeling like I was actually a part of them and not just their exchange student from America.
But now I’m in the bathroom at the house of my last host family. It’s the morning of my departure, and my advisor and his wife are here to take me to the airport. I can hear them talking to my host parents, but I am not paying attention to what they are saying because I’m dry heaving into the toilet. The nausea is so overwhelming that I can’t even stand.
I didn’t experience this extreme mix of fear and anticipation when leaving the US, so it takes a few minutes for me to realize that I’m reacting physically to the end of my stay in Australia.
Eventually I make it out to the car and we are on our way to the airport. We make a quick drive through town, stopping briefly at a few friends houses to say goodbye again before the four hour drive, most of which I sleep through. When awake I avoid much talk for fear of another round of sickness, only chatting briefly with my counselor about how long I will be traveling and about seeing my family again.
At the airport there is another crew of exchange students waiting to say goodbye. I’m the first of our group to leave and it seems as if I’m the guinea pig- by observing me and how I’m handling it, the others may have a better idea of what to expect and how to prepare for departure when it’s their turn.
I tell no one of my queasiness earlier.
My flight is delayed due to fog. Everyone waits with me, and it’s just like any other gathering we’ve had in the past. We’re singing, reminiscing about our three week bus tour of the country, playing games, taking photos and sharing stories. I forget, briefly, how terrified I am to return home.
It’s not long before the fog lifts; there are hugs and tears all around and once again I’m walking down a jetway, unable to turn around for one last look.
Ansett Australia takes me from Melbourne to Sydney, then it’s Air New Zealand from Sydney to Los Angeles. USAir carries me from LA to Pittsburgh and after close to 42 hours of travel I am back in Rochester.
I never realized the hardest part would be the end. Leaving home at 16 was tough, but I knew I’d be back. Homesickness was relieved by the understanding that in the long run, I would come home. Leaving Australia at 17 hurt more because I didn’t know if I’d ever return.
