I was fine when I finished my last midterm exam, got into the black minivan and drove away. It was the beginning of what I thought would be two weeks of happiness and nostalgia. But I would soon come to find, that my expectations strayed far from what would really happen. I hurriedly packed my suitcase as I blasted "Sister Golden Hair" through my speakers. It took all my strength to keep myself on task without drifting off into a daydream. What would happen this time? What parties would I go to? What places would I visit? What people would I meet? It was a feeling I missed dearly, a feeling of excitement at the endless possibilities. The unlimited possibilities to be happy. The moments of euphoria that would greet me like they had in years past. It was awesome.
The flight would leave late; 10:00 P.M. to be exact. I do remember that flight as one of the most uncomfortable journeys I have ever experienced in my life. It was hard to believe that I had been taking a midterm exam less than 24 hours earlier. It was hard to believe that I was again visiting the place I loved. The familiar sense of vacation was in the air. The price of a three hour flight for the company of the people I most loved in the world.  It would all be worth it when I got there...
My first day in Colombia came and went. Then the second. Then the third. All swiftly and silently giving way to the apparent end, the end of happiness, harmony, and understanding within my family. My last remaining heaven, soon to be smashed into a thousand pieces, all scattered and jagged and hurtful. Everything was wrong now. Everything was so messed up and damaged that I almost couldn't take sleeping in that house whose memories I had once resorted to for comfort. My grandmother was gone. My grandfather, in a sense, gone too. The only activity ever carried out by him never included leaving the house. Of course, this was the time when our family, especially my grandfather, needed my mother and I more than ever. But the unfamiliarity in such a familiar place was so overbearing, so over dramatic, that I wished I had never gotten on that plane.
With each passing day, I began to notice things; things out of place. My cousin, now eighteen, was never around anymore, but talk about her would never go away. The divorce her mother had gone through provoked even more scolding from the religious individuals in our family. My fifteen year old cousin, scars appearing now and then; with an overbearing mother and the downward spiral she was slowly succumbing to. My aunt, which I once viewed as a friend, now looked like a persecutor to me. Someone who was so enveloped in narcissism that it made me angry just to see her face. I was filled with an unnatural disgust with myself and almost everyone around me. Hate towards myself, towards the people who would have made me the happiest girl in the world not more than a year ago. The pain and rage combined to form an ugly monster, one that only found relief in isolation and separation from those people that made me feel betrayed. I felt so angry. This was the place that had brought relief to me so many times before. I had thought of this place when everything else seemed like it was crumbling, collapsing, closing in to destroy me. I thought of the infectious smiles and laughter that radiated from everyone I loved. How they could always make me feel like a person. But now all I felt was anger. And sadness. And hopelessness. Sure, things had gotten harder over time, but it was never this bad. It had never gotten this bad.
New Year's Day came with an all too familiar presence of dread. It was a bad morning. But my cousins and I wanted to go out. We all sat in the backseat as my mother drove and my aunt sat beside her. I was glad I got a window seat. This way I could look out of the window, trying to focus at those ongoing lives, instead of the four screaming people inside the car. It wasn't the screaming that unnerved me. It wasn't the fact that I was so upset that I wanted to get out of the car and just run away. It wasn't the destruction of this special day. It was the things I heard being said. And the things that I just couldn't believe were happening. I knew that if I intervened, I would just dissolve into my own hopelessness, because I just didn't have enough strength to keep my eyes dry anymore. I had had to do it many times before, but I just couldn't do it this time. It was easier to force yourself to remain calm when the room is quiet, and the only sound you can hear is your breathing, with occasional muffled, talking voices on the other side of the door. I wanted to go home, my real home, I thought. I was glad the loud voices drowned out the sobs.
Things got better later in the day. My cousins and I sat together in the park, but I knew we all shared an unsettling feeling of separation. Things were quiet for a while. We occasionally opened our mouths to try and break our own group's silence, pausing again and again, our lack of sound giving way to the noises around us. We decided to get ice cream. We walked around the park, glancing through the windows of the shops lining its outer perimeter. We gradually beat the silence as we began to get comfortable with one another again. Our words turned to chuckles, and our chuckles to loud laughter. We were all happy again. It was like it had always been. It was like I had always known it should be.
We left the park after sunset. I knew I left more than the park behind me. I left the happiness behind, too. I told myself that it wasn't worth to hope when I knew it would soon go away again. Back to the house. Back to that house. My cousins went home, the house once again, empty to me. I retreated to the confinement of my room to quietly celebrate New Year's Eve on my own. There was no resolution, no New Year's Eve kiss. No fireworks outside, no distinguishable sound of celebration. It was just me, door closed, with the relief that comes with the luxury of privacy. It had its perks. An occasional glance at the clock. A whispered 'Happy New Year,' and a smile at the thought of great things to come.
I learned many things this year. I learned to value whatever you can before it is too late. I learned a song that helped me to memorize China's dynasties. I learned to face my fears. I learned the meaning of communism. I learned that the best way to make yourself happy is to store your memories where no one can ever take them. I learned all these things, and I remembered what it felt like to be happy. I realized how fortunate my life was, and how easy it is for anyone to forget that. It was hard to see the light outside of the tunnel, when so many things had happened so fast. But I made it. And I am happy that I did. Life is not an easy road. It's the kind of road that has both sides to offer. There are the days when being void of feeling is the only thing that can keep you safe from yourself. There are days when you discover that everything is just one big production that has never disappointed you enough to make you head towards the exit sign. And there are the days when you realize that it is hard to stay so unhappy, so unfulfilled, when there are so many beautiful things that exist; so many opportunities waiting to be grasped. So many chances for something new, so many people that you haven't met, so many experiences you haven't lived. All worth it, all eternally waiting to be carried out, in some infinitesimal space in time. It's the things that give me hope, that make me cry when I see how good this world can be. I cry because I know...They exist!