Love Never Fails

Chapter 4: Nick

I'm not sure I'm looking forward to this trip anymore.

The landing was perfect. The flight was... Let's say it could have been better. I haven't slept much, because it turns out that the minute old lady who triggered memories of my grandma earlier, and especially her husband, were of the snoring type. The very loud variant. And they didn't have a problem to turn around in their seats or push me off my seat either. In their defense I must say that it was while they were completely unconscious. But I did get some funny looks from the people around me at one point when the man put a hand around my face. I must recognise that it was as frustrating as it was comical.

Thankfully —and I cannot possibly believe I'm saying this— Ari came by several times to allow the little boy to stretch his legs. We did a little of polite catching up —well, mostly she did— and I got to know that the little gentleman is called Tim, which according to him, is short for Timothy, but he's not the same Timothy as in the Bible, and that he is, and I quote, "five full years and some bits, but I don't know how many bits."

Children are hilarious. I do envy that from Ari. She's got a very pretty little family and a great kid. Wishing never got us anywhere, but I'd honestly love to have the same. A long, long time ago, this feeling made me mad. Now, I no longer get mad that I never will, I've simply learned to accept I'm going to have to live with this forever. Or at least until either I get fixed in the new world, or even better, the new scrolls finally let me get a husband. OK, we all know there's no way that's ever going to happen, but again, wishing is free.

Either way, I'm going to have to keep it to myself somehow until then. And I should start by probably putting some ground between Ari's family and myself.

Life is like a game of cards, you get dealt some cards at birth, they can be good or bad, but you've got to play them. As you grow, you learn the rules of the game, and how to best play the cards you have. If you play them wisely, you may end up having a happy life. My cards are the kind that must be kept close to my chest for as long as possible, but for some reason this encounter with Ari and her silly family is affecting me more than I expected. I'm starting to think that happiness is simply overrated. Or maybe it's because of...

Maybe it's because of many other things. Probably best not to think too much.

Anyway, the airport in Madrid has terminals remarkably far away from each other. It takes us at least an hour from landing to border control. And then, right after crossing the gate to arrivals, there's a huge reception committee for all delegates. There's so many brothers and sisters there, some with orange scarves and ties, and some others with traditional dresses, making a lot of noise. They're so enthusiastic that it's contagious. They carry signs that cover the whole arrivals welcome area and some are even dancing at the airport hall. Is that supposed to be a traditional dance? Everything is a bit over the top.

As we walk through the area everyone smiles and welcomes us. It reminds me of the parties I went while on my summer in Mexico and at the Spanish-speaking congregations I've been serving in in the past few years. These guys are loud. And I suppose that's OK. They have to compensate for us who are maybe too quiet.

There's also a lot of excited faces from many places of the world around me. Evidently we were not the only plane that was carrying delegates from the world over. I can't but smile. They don't know me yet, but to them I'm their brother and that's all that matters, isn't it? Except, they don't know me. In reality nobody does. Does that matter?

Many of the delegates make a stop to take a picture with the welcome team and in particular with the sisters in those very colourful dresses. I'm not a big fan of selfies, and certainly not after a long-haul flight where I haven't had my beauty rest, but when Ari and her family finally get out as well and want a picture, they ask me to take it for them. You know already how it is with Ari —you can rarely say anything, including saying "no." So I comply, and then they do the same for me. I'm now forever immortalised in this picture surrounded by "sevillanas" sisters. And really, it's not that horrible. I'll keep it for now. I might delete it later.