Because I very much enjoyed being 25, I decided not to turn 26 this year, but instead to celebrate my 25th birthday once again. It seems like this decision has been very confusing for my friends, and with very few exceptions most of them forgot about my B-day or simply ignored it (I still don't know what's worse). That kinda hurt, although I didn't think I'd make such a big deal out of this, but apparently I did, especially as I didn't expect it from the people I love.
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Since I'm such a fan of traveling, I figured the best way to spend my special day was to stay on the road and on the run. So after a night train from Lisbon to Porto, I flew to London and from there to Poznan and with the very last drops of energy I dragged my tired ass on a train to Warsaw. By the end of the day, it felt a bit odd to enter the house without a boarding pass and / or ticket. Now the one thing I really hate when I'm tired and cranky (and when I'm tired I'm always cranky) is the sound of babies crying, and I had my fair share of that on both of today's flights, to last me until I turn 26, or 27, or 25 again, next year.
When I landed in Poznan I was hungry and grumpier than I usually am, and the vegetarian sandwich I bought turned out to be anything but vegetarian. The slice of ham which I didn't observe (I don't usually study my food, once I'm assured it contains no meat) tasted foul and it made me sick in an instant, then again it wasn't the first time I threw up on my way from London to Warsaw, so I guess it's becoming a personal tradition, although the reasons could not have been any different from one trip to another.
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And then there was the phone call from my Mom. Who did not forget about my birthday, but she had other things to tell me, as well. This morning, they took my Gran to the hospital. All of a sudden, everything else faded. All I wanted was to be home, hold her hand and tell her how much I loved her and how badly I needed her to stay around. Over the years, we've had such a powerful bond, and I'm sure she knows all this, but I just want to be there and make sure I tell her. I'm sad in a way I haven't been sad for a very long time, I'm neither depressed nor heartbroken nor disappointed, it's pure sadness and it's very difficult to bear. I knew once I decided to leave Romania and settle in Poland, at least for the time being, that such situations might occur. But thinking about it is one thing, actually experiencing the whole thing is a whole different story. I'm going home. I'm not even considering the possibility that it might be too late.
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And thus ended, in the worst possible way, the best vacation I've had in ages. I'll be back with stories about it once I sort the pics and clear my mind.