It Began In Italy | ✔️

Chapter One

Scrolling aimlessly on my phone, I wait for the intercom to announce the boarding of our flight. My little sister, Nancy, sits across from me - her hand dug deep in a bag of crisps. Pulling out a mighty handful, I watch and grimace as she shoves them into her awaiting mouth. My sight immediately trails down to the crumbs littering her bright pink jumper and her chubby fingers which are now covered in a thick layer of cheese dust.

What a sight to be greeted with at the crack of dawn.

My mother sits beside her, checking and re-checking her schedule sporadically, despite us being several hours early. My father, on the other hand, is knocked right out, deep in slumber. The blacked-out shades perching on the tip of his nose say everything.

It's the summer break before I leave for university and my parents thought what better way to end the year than going on one last family holiday... to Italy. The idea sounded appealing at first, but I have concluded that I am dreading having to walk around my mother on eggshells the entire time.

My Uncle Terrone and Aunt Vienna own a small townhouse in Vernazza, Cinque Terre, which hasn't been occupied for the better part of eternity. We agreed to meet them there and we'd spend three weeks together.

"Heidi, if you carry on looking at that phone, you'll give yourself a headache," my mother says, and my eyes meet with hers. "We should be boarding soon; do you need to use the bathroom?" she asks as though I'm a child and unable to allocate a bathroom if necessary.

"No, mother, I do not need to use the bathroom and I'm sure my head will be okay." I give her a tight-lipped smile in response.

Her gaze is quickly dragged away from mine before it settles back on Nancy. She crumples the crisp packet before stumbling out of her chair and stalking towards the bin. "How long is the flight, mummy?" her small voice sounds with the same question she has repeated the past half an hour.

"About two hours, hoping there are no more delays," my mother says, checking the itinerary, yet again. "Brush yourself off, you've dropped more crisps down you than you have eaten," she says as a snore erupts from my father.

My mother swats him on the arm with her wad of paper and he quickly snaps out of it. "What was that for?" he thrusts his arms into the air, shook by how unprepared he was for my mother's actions.

"Sebastien! We are in the middle of an airport, and you are snoring like your life depends on it. Wake up, we don't want to be late," she raises her voice and heads swivel in our direction. Wanting the world to wipe me from existence, I sink further into my chair.

"Honey, I'm sorry-" my father's is cut off by a woman's voice through the intercom.

"This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight B172 to Pisa, Italy. We are now advising those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes' time. Thank you."

As soon as the woman's voice sounds, I am out of my chair and hastily grabbing my luggage. I've never been more thankful for my six-year-old sister. The sooner we get on the flight, the sooner I can feel the warm breeze of Italy against my cheeks. Just the idea makes my feet move faster against the worn carpet.

The glass doors slide open as the crowd moves towards the gates in a frenzy. Flashing our passports, I feel relief as we are granted permission to finally board the flight. In just about four hours' time, I will be able to finally relax in the Italian rays. My own thoughts make me feel giddy as we walk outside, the cold air chilling the warmth in my veins, and towards the stairs that lead to the plane.