Hello and happy Thursday. The time has come to go back in time to when I traveled to the States and stayed at a high schooler’s house for a week. Yes, this is part seven of the story of my exchange. Let’s get started, shall we?
I was with my Colombian friend Irene, experiencing a snowstorm in Middle of Nowhere, Maine, remember? And Ruth, my host, had two friends over and she’d sort of thrown a sleepover party that didn’t include us. It was fine, Irene and I had our own sleepover, and we even ate cookies we’d baked the previous night, like true Americans.
The morning after the two improvised sleepover parties, the actual morning of the snow storm, Irene and I woke up early and noticed that we didn’t hear the usual sounds of people hurrying up to get ready and make it to school. In fact, it felt like everyone was still sleeping, so we left our room to investigate. We went to Ruth’s room, which wasn’t a place we’d frequented. I don’t think we were really welcome there.
Ashley was sleeping on the floor, and Ruth and her friend Shawn were sitting on the bed. The room was a mess, with pillows and sheets all over, and we couldn’t figure out who’d slept where, which made us ask Ruth whether she and Shawn had slept on the same bed. That’s not a bad question, right? Like we weren’t judging or anything, we were just asking. She said they had and I don’t know if Irene and I smiled or something because Ruth got all flustered, and told us that she’d been kidding and that Shawn had slept on the floor. After that, we had to excuse ourselves and go back to our rooms; it would’ve been bad to laugh right at Ruth’s face, wouldn’t it?
Susan, Ruth’s mom, couldn’t pronounce Irene’s name the way Latinos do, so she’d call her Rene, which I found hilarious. She also pronounced my name the American way, and that’s something I’ve begun to find unnerving with the years. I mean, we pronounce your white-people names correctly, can’t you even try? Aside from that, though, the day was nice and nothing bad happened, like the phone call to our teacher had been just a bad dream.
Irene and I hung out at the living room while Ruth did her thing with her friends. She asked Shawn whether he wanted to go outside and because we were pretty bored, we tagged along even if the invitation hadn’t been extended to us. While we were wearing thermal PJ’s, jackets, mittens, and boots, Shawn was wearing sweatpants and he was barefoot. We went outside and played in the snow for a while until Ruth warned us about frostbite, which got us a bit paranoid.
Paranoia lasted until Irene remember she had brought her camera because pictures obviously beat having your fingertips freeze. Irene asked Shawn to take pictures of us, and he agreed, so he left Ruth in the porch by herself (Ashley was probably still sleeping inside) and played photographer for a while. I was trying my best to look like I didn’t hate the snow with every inch of my body, but you be the judge if you see the pictures. Real talk, though: snow fights are not as cool as everybody says.
When the shoot finished and we were walking back inside, Irene asked Shawn for her camera and thanked him for the pictures. Then Ruth approached him and told him, in what was far from a whisper, that she was sure we had a crush on him. Oh, wow.
And that’s it for today’s Throwback Thursday. Do you like the snow? What did you do on snow days? Let me know in the comments below.
Love, Miss Camila