Wozlet
The plane is empty. The only emotion that I am feeling right now is fear, and the flight is 10 hours long. There are barely 3 air hostesses, and I have never felt so well attended during a flight, since I am the only passenger they have to pay attention to.
The only thing motivating me is my grandma's book and the breathtaking country waiting for me, Wozlet.
When I was a baby, my grandma always talked about the incredible country she visited: Wozlet. She described it like this: "Wozlet is a paradise Anne, every corner is full of nature and happiness. The people there are so different and unique. Domestic cats are as big as a tiger and have beautiful fur. Their language is astonishing; talking with them is like hearing a song every day. I was so charmed by that country that I fell in love with a man named Dakaraij. I was so young, and he was so handsome. We were planning to marry. We had everything set. I moved to his house, and I had already learned Wozletiet (their language). But suddenly, on the 1st of May, 1975, my father came from the United States and forced me to return to America. Back then, I was demanded to marry your grandfather. Don't misinterpret me, I love your grandpa, but the love of my life is Dakaraij."
I wanted to find him. Dakaraij. I want him to tell me how my grandma was, the adventures he had with her, the moment he realized he was in love. The second my grandma died, I understood that life is not fair and that the time I spent with her was too short.
A dull sound. I open my eyes; I suppose I fell asleep. The plane is making haunting sounds which are making me feel goosebumps. I ask the air hostess what is happening, and she affirms we are about to land.
The landing was rough, and I think I don't have a straight back anymore. While descending the plane, I see two large lines of women in front of the stairs, and at the moment they see me, they started clapping, screaming, and singing in a language I think is Wozletiet.
During the awkward moment, I am standing in the middle of those two lines, a handsome man shows up wearing a suit and with a smile on his face (he looked a little old, but he surely ages like wine). He stands in front of me and with a soft but firm voice, he says: "Nice to meet you. My name is Dakaraij, and I am the president of this country. I was waiting for you".
I'm speechless, he is Dakaraij, the love of my grandma, standing here, and he was waiting for me? Does he know who I am? How? "I know you have many questions right now, but we have to take the ferry if we want to get to the hotel real quick." "Yeah, I am sorry. Nice to meet you too. My name is Anne."
The ferry is enormous, and the water is clear and sweet. We can see every animal inside the water, and there are fishes of all colors, jellyfishes, pink dolphins, and many more. There are mountains of all types. They are the most beautiful mountains I've ever seen.
What my eyes are seeing right now is a paradise. Grandma was right. The sky is clear, and the clouds are dancing by the singing of the Wozliets.
We arrive at the hotel, and the first thing I hear is people singing and dancing all around me. They have colorful clothes and drums on their hands. Dakaraij started to talk: "This is our national dance and song: "Jusled" which means Wonderful life. I used to sing it with the love of my life, your grandmother. Why are you standing there with that pale face? Let's go to eat in the garden of the hotel. You may be wondering how I know you. Sit down, make yourself at home.
When I was young, I fell in love at first sight with your grandmother. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She had big blue eyes and long and brown hair. She had a strong character, and she always yelled at me, but that was her glamor. We did wonderful things together. We visited the whole country, the seas, lakes, mountains, temples, everything this beautiful country has to offer. Unfortunately, just two days before our marriage, her father came and took her to the US. But we kept in touch by sending letters. It was a long and torturous process, but it kept the flame burning. She sendt to me photos of you. You are just like her. Two months before she passed away, she said that someday you were going to visit Wozlet. She said it was in your heart. And 20 years later, you are here."
At this point, we both have tears in our eyes. I still have so many questions to ask, but I know he is going to be like the father I never had.
By Manuela Orozco, Step 10
