Serena's journey continues.
If it were only possible to measure someone’s excitement, theirs would probably be at its peak. The arrival at the Milan International Airport was, until that very moment, almost transitional; from the change in atmosphere to the calmness they felt within—nothing was going to utter that mood. The stupor at the beauty of the place was visible in their eyes, especially that of Jack and Serena. Somehow, they always imagined that that day would come; “Mum will come back for us,” Jack would sometimes say—although it wasn’t certain when or how, but it was safe to say they all longed for it.
Serena was never one to talk a lot; she cherished those few moments of silence, the instances she had to herself—the ones she would describe as ‘instances of freedom.’
“Thank goodness Mum told us about the weather. How do these people cope with the cold? Said Jack
“I know, right”? Serena replied
It was that time of the year, early spring; it didn’t look like spring; it was windier and colder than usual, but the weather wasn’t the only odd thing, what Serena was most mesmerized by were the people; how much they all looked alike. Their mother had made provisions for the night as she could only arrive the day after—she resided in Genoa, in the northern part of Italy. Genoa is a beautiful city, it is right by the sea even though it didn’t matter because neither Serena nor her brother and sister knew how to swim, in the next couple of years, her sister would take swimming lessons, and she enjoyed it.
After about 30 minutes in the waiting room, a flight attendant accompanied them outside the airport, where a car was waiting for them, getting out of the airport, Jack recognized the face of the man standing by the car—he was “uncle” as they would call him. He was an old friend of their mum’s. They had only seen pictures of him, and Serena was surprised Jack recalled anything other than the stories he read all the time.
Uncle took them to his house. That evening, they had one of the best rice and chicken sauces they have had since Christmas—like the one on Christmas or during any other major celebration at the family house, and like every other special occasion dish, this one has left an undeniable aroma; they had a name for it: “Christmas rice.”
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