Go West
It was time to board the bus. I was scared and excited at the same time. I gave my mother, father, and █████ each a long hug, then stepped onto the express shuttle that would take me from ██████████ to Frankfurt Airport. I don't really remember why we decided that taking the bus was a better idea than all of us driving to the airport for a longer goodbye, but at the time it seemed fine. I could hardly believe what lay ahead of me: a ten-month stay as an exchange student in a suburb of ██████, Texas, USA.
The last few weeks had been strange and exciting. I had pored over the Texas travel guide my parents gave me for my birthday and examined the photographs my American host family had sent, trying to imagine the life that awaited me. My mother insisted I throw a goodbye party for my school friends in our garden, even though I was shy and far from one of the popular kids, which made the whole thing feel awkward. A small booklet was passed around for everyone to write farewell messages. I found the whole gesture really cringe. Some of the cool kids had secretly brought alcohol and spiked their sodas and juices but I was really uncomfortable with that. We were all barely sixteen, barely of legal drinking age in Germany. I had never tried drinking despite the peer pressure, afraid of the effects and knowing that my parents would not approve. At some point two of the guys were even smoking a cigarette outside on the street. I was horrified.
As if the anxiety of not seeing my family for almost a year were not enough, I was also struggling with a strange chronic cough that had been bothering me for weeks, possibly even months. My father had even dragged me to a lung specialist, but no real cause could be found. At night, I had to sleep on an inclined mattress just to reduce the relentless urge to cough. It was maddening.
I took a seat at the very back of the coach and looked out through the rear window. My family stood on the sidewalk, waving, and I waved back as the bus pulled away. I kept watching them until they disappeared from sight. Then I turned around, settled into my seat, and gazed at the urban landscape sliding past as we made our way toward the Autobahn.
That was the moment I took off the glasses I had worn for my lazy eye since kindergarten, for what would turn out to be the last time. I never needed them again. It was only about a week later that I realized my chronic cough, too, had mysteriously subsided. It felt as though, somewhere between ██████████ and Frankfurt, an old version of me had been left behind. It was time for a new me. A new era.