#25 Letter to myself

I opened it.

I opened the drawer of my desk, I pull out the wep folder and I grabbed it.

I thought i would cry, but I didn't, I had a smile on my face that was always bigger as I kept reading. I smiled because I wrote about the fact that I didn't have a host family yet, and I wished for one where I would be supported, understood, respected and involved in their life. 

Well, I now can say that that wish came true. When one morning my dad said: "Emma, sometimes I can't just be just that awesome guy that lives in your house, sometimes I have to be your dad" and I had to hold my tears back, cause I was happy.Or the moment when they asked me to help them choose the next exchange student for next year and I really had to keep myself from start crying right there, suddenly a sense of jealousy started to make its way through my heart, and I realized that it's already half of the way, half of this.

These six months have been fun, have been painful, have been surprising, have been hard, have been a lot of things, they've been full of tears, of love, of homesickness, of joy.

These six little kids are taking small pieces of my heart every day, and I can't stop them, I don't want to. I knew that at some point I would've been divided in two, as if my heart was made into two different part. And here I am, there's one half that doesn't want to surrender and every day it reminds me of all my friends, my family, my sister (gosh if I miss my sisi) and then there's the other half, which is expanding its roots here and will never want to leave. Because when you are an exchange student 90% of the time there's no balance with emotions, the minute before you are happy nad smiling and laughing and then booom, you see something, you remember something and you are lost for a range of time that can vary from second to hours.

Then I'm on the court, a volleyball court. Silence. Everybody is facing the flag. The anthem is playing. I look around and every time I think: "This can't be real, I'm playing volleyball on the other side of the world, I'm surrounded by Americans/Ketchup-eaters (no offense I love you all and I like ketchup too)". So I hold back tears, without even knowing if they are for joy or whatever.

Yes, sometime I feel really crazy, but I can take it. Also because there's always someone who brings me back to reality with questions like: "EEmmaaaaaa, if you are in the space and pee...does the pee go up or down?".

P.S. Si piange e si scherza e intanto la mia sorellina qua mette il parmigiano sulla pasta e poi infila il piatto nel microonde...calma emma, mantieni la calma.