Burning

It took 14 hours to reach the other side of the world. The plane had barely grazed the pavement when a surge of mixed excitement, nervousness, and anger rattled my mind. I felt so misplaced, standing in the heat of Australia when I was quite smug in the below freezing weather of snowy Alaska. In addition to my new surroundings, I felt as though I had a new father. He lost almost 50 pounds since he came to Australia; he wore shorts, sandals, airy button-down t-shirts, and sunglasses. This was not the dad I remembered, who wore long-sleeve flannel shirts, long pants, and hefty waterproof boots. I felt discombobulated as I made my way to his car, whose steering wheel was awkwardly located on the right side.

         Two years ago, Dad was offered a job in PNG where he would be based out of Cairns: 16 days in PNG, 12 days in Cairns. Six months later, he left home in Alaska where my mom and I stayed. Mom didn’t want him to go. They never fought in person because Dad did contracting work from Washington and he was frequently away from home. I never heard them arguing, but Mom’s angered countenance and frazzled attitude after hour-long phone conversations left me with no need to overhear any of them. Dad’s absence did not daunt me anymore; he has always been away for work. Frankly, it was stranger when he was home.
         The dispute lasted for months: would I go to Australia for a semester of school or not? I never made up my mind. Quietly eavesdropping in the fall of 2007, I’d hear Mom say, “I don’t think she’s ready just yet…timing is bad…maybe next year…” It was true; I wasn’t ready and I didn’t want to go, not now. Dad completed and sent in an application for me at Smithfield State High School. I was angry. I didn’t agree to this. His plans progressed and I received an informational packet from the International Student Coordinator. It was all happening too fast and I knew I couldn’t let this unravel before me without speaking up.
Mom and I exchanged few words, but I knew that if I told her how I felt, she would understand.
“Mom, I really don’t want to go.” Her expression shifted from an average end-of-the-day exhaustion to a half-surprised eyebrow flinch. She wasn’t mad; her eyes, one brown and one blue, were soft and almost welcoming. A sudden desire to blurt everything out all at once resulted in nothing but tears. There were too many things I wanted to say. She laid a hand on my shoulder and comforted me as I cried for no apparent reason. I felt pathetic, ridiculous.
“It’s okay. Why don’t you want go?” After fits of sniffling and several more outbursts of sobs, I managed to mutter some sketchy explanation of my reluctance to leave. I had trouble forming logical sentences, as all my reasoning chaotically bounced around my head. Despite this, she understood and I was happy about my decision. My dad, however, was not. He disregarded my excuses and I endured several lectures on all the reasons I would love it. I ignored him, but offered some small assurance, “Maybe next year.”

A year passed. It was fall of 2008. Somewhere amidst those twelve months, there had been an unspoken decision made that I would indeed go to Australia in January for a semester. I half-heartedly went along with it. As the time to leave crept closer and closer, I became more nervous. I had never travelled so far from home nor had I even been out of the United States, but the change was inevitable. Every now and then, the thought of a foreign atmosphere seemed like the exact kind of change I needed and I became excited. Then I thought of the distance between there and here, home, familiarity and all my hesitations came rushing back.

         The sun beat down on my defenseless fair skin. I felt the burn, the burn of an unsuccessful relationship with my dad, the burn of being away from home. I felt optimistic, though, that I could persevere into an experience wholly unknown to me. I had been granted with an opportunity some will never attain in a lifetime; and although I knew I’d get homesick, I would still try and make the best out of this adventure.
         “Welcome to Cairns!” he exclaimed, and I knew there was no turning back now.