Many things change after just one hour and a half of flight.
Landing in Timisoara, we immediately realized how much colder it had gotten in Romania. La nonna quickly got a second scarf from her bag and wrapped it around her head. We then drove home where there was warm, freshly made soup waiting for us...and then the storytelling started. Where we have gone? What did we see? How is my brother? How was flying?
I don't know if my grandmother ever imagined flying. I enjoyed watching her experiencing this adventure, the fight that seemed to go on inside of her at times: her mind was telling her that she should be scared, sick even, yet she was curious, intrigued by what was happening around her.
I wonder if she will want to take a plane again...my bet is that yes; in the end, we're family.
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