I've been sitting on this plane for 10 minutes, and in this situation way too much time, 12 hours

is way too much time, and that's because time makes me think, and I don't want to think, not
now.
The plane just took off and I’m four again, leaving for the first time, not knowing that day would
change my life, not knowing flying could be so addicting, not to me, but to my parents, or at
least to the ones leading their paths.
I was too young to understand what was happening, there were people everywhere:
-Valentina! Hold my hand! You mustn't get lost now!
I was a nice kid, I listened, and at the time listening was the easiest thing to do. So that's what I
did, every single time, and before I knew it, I was everywhere, and everywhere stuck with me,
every plane stuck with me, every friend, every cry, every time I left, it stuck with me, all these
memories are still stuck to me, I’m condemned to think in five tongues, and all I can do is to
force myself to be grateful.
The impact of the plane landing awakes me from my thoughts and I’m 16 again, and I’m home,
I’m here.
But if this is home then what were those other places? If this is my home, then what is stuck to
me?
If this is where I belong, then what is stuck with me? What will my family think of me, the ones
I’ve never met, will they be proud, will they be sad? happy? disappointed? will they consider me
one of them? because I am, I am one of them.
If not here then what place will I ever belong, would you call someone family if they've never
been home?