Back and Forth a Short Story

Back and Forth


I left Germany in 2010 with a university-entrance diploma, without a dime in my pocket and with the certainty that my parents would never forgive me for leaving them. Fortunately, I had a friend that took care of me, lending me crash for two months at her place in Lucerne, Switzerland. Although I was already 1000 kilometers away I felt like I could still hear their hearts breaking and their voices warning me to think it through. I was determined to get away no matter what it would ultimately cost me.
One day Joana, who had become the only stability in my life, told me that she would leave to accept a job offer in Portugal, that she just couldn't refuse. Knowing that I had no place to stay and that my biggest fear was to be completely alone, she offered me to come with her. At that moment my world seemed to fall apart. I didn't know if I was ready to leave a life, to which I became somehow accustomed to, again.
So, I took some time to evaluate the pros and cons. I became aware of the fact that it hadn't been that big of a challenge to move 1000 kilometers away to live in a country where my mother tongue is spoken and where my parents could easily contact me and maybe even successfully convince me to come back, but moving almost 2500 km away from the place I was born and raised, was up until then the biggest decision of my life.
Before we reached our destination, I asked Joana a million questions about Portugal and what I should expect. Her response was : “Oh! Don't worry! You'll see! In Portugal it's all about relaxing and living for the day!” Since I was used to doing things the German way (having a plan, being prepared, executing the plan, repeat it the next day), her answer left me even more anxious than I already was. Nevertheless, I was 20 years old and didn't know what to do with my life, so I spent my first month in Portugal sitting in one of those small cafés, looking at people, trying to understand what they would say to each other.
After a while, I noticed that their way of communicating was so much warmer than I was used to and although I found some similarities to my Italian heritage , like the excessive consumption of coffee, everything seemed interesting and unbelievably exciting.
There were so many things that felt so familiar and reminded me of my parents, grandparents and Italy and at the same time, felt strange and foreign to me. 
I still remember how confused I was by the signs on the doors saying
puxar  and how dumb I must have looked each time trying to get the door to open by pushing it. Or how amazed I was, when I discovered how many different ways there are to order a coffee. Also, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that the week starts with  segunda-feira,  why the first day of the week would be called the second one. Or how I came to like and appreciate the many ways of preparing   Bacalhau  but what truly struck me about my Portuguese experience was the concept of    Saudade   that only exists in the Portuguese and Galician language and that no other language in the world can correctly describe with just one word.
I probably could continue with these examples all day long and I'm still discovering new things everyday, which at times leave me perplex.
The more time passed the more I learned how to get along without any help, I pushed myself further every day, trying new things, challenging myself.
Once I started university my life became even more interesting and although I had the advantage of being fluent in Italian the Portuguese pronunciation at times made me question my mental faculties. I remember a friend who used to tease me because I couldn't say or correctly pronounce   as janelas amarelas,   all those sch sounds made me dizzy.

After some time even my parents came to their senses. Everything seemed to come into place and as much as I missed my home, my friends and family I was to proud to admit that to my parents. For a long time a fought with myself until I realized, that I had to put my pride aside for the sake of having a healthy relationship with my family. I could never completely let go of them, I worried and thought a lot about what they would be doing. As my mother later told me, they felt the same way. My mother and I started to talk on the phone every Sunday for at least one hour. She would tell me everything that had been going on and also seemed quite interested in what was going on in my life.
I started travelling back and forth every chance I got no matter how exhausting it could get. However, my relatives still tended to comment and judge the lifestyle I had chosen. I was 30, when I got invited to Joana`s wedding. She looked like a princess and I was honored to be her maid of honor, I even prepared a beautiful speech but when I climbed on stage and felt all the people looking at me, whispering, I couldn`t suppress an awful memory and froze. It broght me back in time, to my cousin`s wedding in Sicily where everyone was talking about me because I was so dreadfully old and still not married. I must confess that it wasn`t easy, it affected me as I gave too much importance to what they said. Thus, my self-esteem plummed. It took me, once again, some time but I finally realized that I should be the one evaluating my decisions and as long as I was happy no one could ever take that from me.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed every single minute I could spend with them and at the same time I was grateful for the distance that brought us closer together.

I've remained in this new found home for 20 years now, I´ve built a family and  I´m happy. Every day I remind my children that family is one of the most important things in your life and that I'm standing behind them at any time.
Even if I now understand how difficult it is to let your children go, I take my experiences with me and pass them on to my children, as I hope they will do one day with their children.
I'm much older now and my relationship with my family has gotten amazing and peaceful.
My heart is divided into 3 pieces, evenly distributed between Italy, Germany and Portugal ;I came to finally understand the real meaning of  saudade,  I never stopped travelling back and forth. 
                                                                                   
Short story by: C.S. Cataldo