My family reunion was not as I would have wanted it to go.

                “Hey Lucy, how are you?” My father comes in and places the suitcases aside before facing me. We stand rather awkwardly before he leans in for a quick hug. My mother comes in soon after. She is tearing my little four year old brother with her, scolding him for taking so long in getting out of the car. My father sighs.

            “What happened?” Is all I ask. I have seen this kind of scene too often in my life.

            “We had a fight. In the plane. She kept shouting over at me from two rows away,” my father changed his stance, he was frustrated.

            “Hey Lucy! How have you been? Did you eat yet?” my mother greeted me with the same awkward hug. I just shrug and then shake my head. I feel a slight tug on my right hand and look down. It was Marc, my adorable little brother. I squat down and smile at him.

            “How was the flight, little fellow?” I poke his little nose. He grinned at me, with his cute, round baby face. I smile. Above us, my parents are brewing a storm. I can feel the tension in the air. I grab Marc’s little hand and steer him away. I did not want him to experience even more of their messed up fights. We almost made it. But behind us my mother’s voice couldn’t be blocked out.

            “You are such an ! I can’t take this anymore, you piece of-“ I close the door to the kitchen and her accusations become muffled. I pick up my brother and place him on a stool.

            “Are you hungry?” I ask him.

            “No, Papa gave me ice cream before,” he gives me a lop-sided grin. I smile, but inside I am worried about Marc. He never talks about how our parent’s constant fights affect him. Then again, he is only four years old. I hope he does not notice and understand the hatred behind the word exchanges of Mama and Papa. I open the freezer and motion him over. He plops down from the stool and taps over. His shoes are still on. I sit down on the floor and drag him onto my lap. He holds out his feet and I neatly take his tiny shoes off. This innocent, tiny brother of mine has to be exposed to the flaws of life so early. There is a crash coming from somewhere else in the house.

            “What was that?” Marc asks. I just shake my head and take out a popsicle from the freezer.

            “I don’t know, little fellow. Maybe the neighbors dropped something,” I whisper into his ear. The beautiful thing about little children is they believe your every word. So he happily continued eating his popsicle stick, as the voices reached their , and then finally diminished into hushed voices. I did not dare come out yet though. Hushed conversations were usually the harshest ones. Where they get to the root of their problem.

            I had already cleaned everyone’s room. Marc had to sleep soon. I made it all into a game for him. Sneak past the parents and get ready for bed without them noticing. It was lame, I know. But like I had said, little kids will do anything. I made him laugh and told him a story out of the top of my head, tuning out the people at war behind the closed door to Marc’s room. We cuddled, and he finally fell asleep. I stayed a long while afterwards with him in bed, not wanting to leave.

            I have been looking forward to seeing my family again. I know it has only been a week, but I have been in another country then them. It felt like a much longer time. Maybe because of everything that has happened in school. I sighed. Family. One word, but it seems to have a different meaning for everyone. People who live together. People who share the same blood. People who love each other. People who respect each other.

           My family was sort of messed up. But maybe, with a new surrounding here, we would all become closer again, like we used to. Leave all our problems and worries behind in Germany. I snuggled in closer to Marc. He let out a little snore. I fell asleep right beside the most important person in my life. The one I would do anything for.