Journaling the Armenian Entrance- PW #6

Over the weekend, my aunt, great aunt, and cousin arrived from Toronto. They attempted a surprise after their flights got canceled a few weeks ago. They informed my father of their arrival, who relayed the information to my sister, who told me. The only people who did not know was my sister and my mother (who matter the most).

When I found out, I scrambled to clean the house, and to make sure there was a sufficient amount of food in the fridge (there wasn’t). One of the main issues was to keep my mother awake, but unknowing. Their arrival was set to be around eleven o’clock at night. When they arrived at eleven thirty, the doorbell rang throughout the house. My mother did not let me open the door as she believed it was an intruder. When I managed to pry open the door, an exclamation of laughs left her and her sister.

Whenever they visit, Armenian food that is unattainable here is brought through packed luggage and grocery bags. As they unloaded the lavash and cured meats, as the good immigrant daughter I am, I started the kettle. We sat and drank tea and caught up for nearly two hours, before anyone nearly thought of going to bed.

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