"Call us the second you get there, alright?" Mom repeats herself for the fifth time in two hours. I am standing outside my favourite Japanese restaurant on Bridge Street in Wynyard, saying my final goodbyes for the night. Gabe has gone home and it's just me and my family, who won't let me get into my car and drive back home. It's my farewell party with my loved ones, and I've spent the night laughing, getting sentimental and emotional with my parents, Hansley, Jackie, and Gabe. My flight is tomorrow morning, and because I would find it too difficult to say goodbye to any of them at the airport, I suggested dinner instead. Less invasive this way.
"I get there at six in the evening, it will be three in the morning for you. I'll just text you first," I insist and she scowls at me.
"Fine, but as soon as you get off the plane, alright? I don't care what time. I just need to know you are safe. I will be expecting a text at 3AM," she insists, her tone unyieldingly stern.