My Family When I Came To America

Until last summer, I didn't understand the meaning of family. My parents moved to the U.S. fifteen years ago. Because of that, all of my extended family lives in Costa Rica. I hadn't seen most of my cousins, aunts or uncles since the last time we visited them in 2009. But last summer, my parents and I took a trip down to visit everyone. The only problem was that I was so scared to go again because I didn't think I would recognize anyone besides my grandparents and the cousins closest in age to me. I was also nervous about my Spanish. I had been neglecting it for years, but now I really needed it for the first time.
Before the trip, I tried to think of what I remembered from last time. The only memorable things were the somber expressions on

the faces of everyone around me, and the feeling of being stabbed due to my appendix swelling up inside me. I don't have very many happy memories of my family or of Costa Rica itself. I could never relate to my friends when they told me about their adventures with their cousins. "I've never had so much fun with them! We did so many things together and I feel like we're all so much closer!" they'd rave enthusiastically. I'd always respond with silence because I didn't want to kill their fun by saying sarcastically, "Well, I barely ever talk to my cousins who are in a completely different country."
The day of the trip came and I felt a strange mix of nerves, fear and excitement brewing inside me. “Kristi, everything is going to be fine. You’ll see that by the time we’re back home you will be sad that we left.” my mother told me in a soothing voice. That same day, we arrived in Costa Rica. When I entered my grandmother's kitchen, I was flooded with memories from when I was younger. I’d forgotten these little details from when I was younger but now they are fond memories I treasure.
While we were there, we took a trip to the beach with a few of my aunts and their families. On the way there we stopped by my aunt Elli’s house. While we were there, my uncle asked me if I’d ever gone snorkeling. “I tried to when I was younger, but I didn’t like it” I answered. With a smile he said, “Well then, would you like to try again? I’d like to go snorkeling with you, if you’d like.” I was amazed. Someone I rarely see and barely recognized asked me if I wanted to go do something really fun. The snorkeling was fun, but I was so shocked. After going snorkeling, I finally understood what my friends meant about getting closer to family. But instead of mostly remembering how the ocean looked and the colors of fish I saw, I mostly remember the shock of being invited to spend time with someone I hardly know, and getting to know them better.
For the rest of my time in Costa Rica I spent as much time with my family as possible. I chatted with my aunts and uncles, played board games with my cousins, and improved my Spanish. After that beach trip, everyone turned into real people for the first time. They weren’t pictures in a photo album, or bodiless voices on skype anymore. They were real people that cared about me and I started to care about them. I jumped at the opportunity to have afternoon tea with my great aunts or to help my grandmother with the groceries she brought from the market. I’d never really been willing to spend time and create happy memories with these people I rarely ever see. I realized that family is family, wherever they are and that they will always be there to welcome me home.