As we speak, 12 am EST, the Garstads (Mom, Dad, Maria and Paul André) have been on the road for two hours. They’re probably approaching Amsterdam by now, and as I go to bed and sleep, they will be flying over the Atlantic Ocean to come see ME. That’s right. Moi. Edel Garstad. Yup. You got it.
Had I only been able to wrap my head around this incomprehensible fact, I would have been going off the wall with excitement. Only problem is that I can’t. It seems just a tad too amazing that after 287 days (290 days for my mother and siblings) I will finally be able to see them, touch them and smell them. Yeah, I’m a creep (or just trying to make it clear that reality is way better than Skype, although that, too, is pretty dang amazing).
So. In about 12 hours, I will be on my way to the airport, and in less than 17 hours, I’ll finally see them again. Which might seem like quite a while, but after 6,888 hours apart, that’s nothing. Nope. Nothing at all.
Love you, my loving family, and I can (meaning: I won’t die, nor am I exited, but as stated, I WOULD be) wait to see you again <3
