My Journey to the Ocean (All Colors of the Rainbow Book 1) by Lena Mikado

Author:Lena Mikado [Mikado, Lena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lena Mikado
Published: 2015-02-13T23:00:00+00:00

Another inevitable companion of youth is judgment. I used to be extremely judgmental until one day I read a rather insightful self-help book. The author pointed out that any judgment that we pass on people around us, even silently, is a projection of our own fears and feelings of inadequacy. So, in actuality, when judging others, you are judging yourself. What ingenious simplicity! What an eye-opener! This No Judgment Strategy helped me tackle the most deep-seated insecurities that had been torturing me for as I long as I can remember. But this would happen much later. Now we are in 2004, and I am as tough on myself as on everybody around me.

I looked over my shoulder at the girls who were seated in the back of the car and burst into giggles for the fifth time in the last minute.

“Would you just shut it, Elena?” Sonia hissed, turning away from all of us to face the road.

We were zooming down I-95, heading south towards St. Augustine, Florida. All four of us had been hoping to enjoy some amazing scenery during the two-and-a-half-hour drive, but, to our disappointment, all we could see was a boring road. A few lonely palm trees here and there, but other than that—nothing but the road.

“Chris!” I turned to face him, touching his shoulder ever so lightly.

“Yes, mom!”

Ever since the Okefenokee trip this was our inside joke. Chris and I were “Dad and Mom”, and the girls were “our kids”—just because I was always riding up front, and the girls were in the back.

“How come we’re not passing any picturesque villages or little quirky towns or something? This road is pretty dull!”

“Well, it’s I-95, the main east coast interstate highway. We could have taken a more scenic road had Sonia not flooded the apartment.” Chris gave a small chuckle, before continuing on. “But since we lost quite a bit of time wiping the foam off your couch and stove, we had to go for the shortest possible route.”

“Chris!” Sonia exclaimed, her voice rising in indignation. “Stop it! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault we don’t have dishwashers in Russia.”

I once again glanced back at Vera and Diana and saw that they were barely coping. Laughter was trying to escape through their eyes, chins, and body language. Poor things—at least I could turn away from Sonia and laugh as much as I wanted right there, without hurting her feelings.

Okay, let’s start from the beginning. It is actually true that most Russian households don’t have dishwashers. And when I say “most households,” I mean that I have never been to a Russian home that was equipped with one. I am still quite baffled as to why this is so. Contrary to the common belief in the West, Russia is not stuck in the Stone Age. I can already see some people smirking as they are reading this. Yeah, right! We saw it on TV—how you were lining up for food stamps in the Soviet Union. And that is correct.

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