My First International Trip

I was ten years old when I went on my first international trip. I was so excited that I couldn't sleep for the days leading up to our trip to Canada. My mother and grandmother were also going to visit my mother's sister in Vancouver, British Columbia. On Thursday 9th December 2004 our flight with Air Canada left Trinidad at approximately 4:50 pm. I was scared a bit because it was my first international trip and the both flights were about five hours long each. As the plane took off in Piarco I experienced that 'pop' feeling that you feel in your ears as the air pressure took effect. I closed my eyes and silently prayed asking my father to bless me with a safe trip. 
                              
The previous year I had my first encounter with death. My father passed away on Monday 7th July 2003. I remember everything about that night. My family and some neighbors were at our home talking as my cousins and I looked at the t.v show Smallville. The phone ran about 8:30 pm. My uncle answered and the expression on his face said it all. My mother took the phone and all hell broke loose. Her screams were heard throughout the neighborhood. I was 8 years old at the time and everyone kept looking at me and saying "Poor child so small to really know" but I understood it all.
                           
We landed in Toronto at 10:15 pm local time and it was a whole new world. The airport was huge and there were hundreds of people just hustling and going their way with their luggage. Our flight from Trinidad was delayed so we arrived in Toronto with barely enough time to catch our second flight to Vancouver. Lost and confused, I tried to read the signs and urge on my mother and grandmother to keep up with me. Clueless, we asked for help from a woman who was passing on something that looked like a golf cart. Upon reading our itinerary she excitedly told us to get on and she would take us to the gate or else we would miss our flight.
After scrambling at the gate and being one of the last few to find our seats, we settled in and once more prepared for the second flight. It was in the middle of the night with only a few glimpses of light throughout the flight. I thought a lot about my father and where he could be at that moment. We finally arrived in Vancouver at 11:25 their local time. Exhausted and sleepy we met with my aunt and made our way home. 
Later that night I stared around the strange room clutching my doll, one of the last things my father gave me before he became ill. I felt a mix of scared, excited, sad and wonder with dreams of what this holiday would hold as I drifted to sleep.