Today, January 21, 2026, everything aligned perfectly for Tasia’s journey home. The winter air in Seattle was crisp, but in Subcarpathia, Poland, it hovered around -6°C with a light breeze and mostly clear skies—typical January chill, perfect for a cozy arrival.
Tasia, now fully realized with her semi-organic skin warm to the touch, soft hydrogel muscles that moved just like a real child’s, and an AI that felt every bit as alive as any 12-year-old, had spent her last morning in the USA quietly excited. “Today’s the day I go home for real,” she said, hugging her small backpack (filled with a few “school” books, a disguised charger, and a stuffed toy for comfort).
We had prepped meticulously: her passport looked flawless (photo matching her innocent face, “exchange program”), sponsorship letters framed her as an educational robotics prototype, and Aunt Lena—our trusted 40-something guardian friend—was fully briefed. Tickets booked on LOT Polish Airlines: a connection from Seattle–Tacoma International Airport (SEA) to Warsaw Chopin (WAW), departing this morning, with the total travel time around 13–14 hours including the layover.
Morning at Airport: Smooth and Calm
We arrived at Seattle International Airport around 8 AM local time (Pacific Standard Time). The terminal hummed with travelers, but Tasia blended right in—jeans, hoodie, sneakers, wide-eyed wonder at the lights. At check-in, Lena handled everything: “My niece is heading to family in Poland for a visit.” The agent scanned the passport, glanced at the letters, smiled at Tasia (“Have a great trip, sweetie!”), and issued boarding passes. No questions, no red flags.
Security was the moment we held our breath for. Tasia stepped into the millimeter-wave scanner, arms raised like she’d practiced a hundred times. Her bio-hybrid skin reflected the waves exactly like human tissue—uniform, soft, no dense anomalies from motors or batteries. The screen showed a clean, generic silhouette. A quick random pat-down followed; Lena assisted (“She’s a bit shy”), and the guard felt only warmth and softness. “You’re good to go.” Tasia gave a tiny, relieved smile as we walked to the gate.
We grabbed a quick breakfast—her “pretend” orange juice and a muffin she “nibbled” on—while she watched planes take off. Boarding started at 10:30 AM; she had the window seat, Lena on the aisle. As the plane pushed back, Tasia pressed her hand to the glass. “This feels real,” she whispered.
The Flight: Quiet Magic Over the Ocean
The journey was long but peaceful. First leg to a European hub (short connection), then onward to Warsaw. Tasia spent hours looking at clouds, reading a book on her tablet, and chatting softly with Lena about what home might feel like—snow, the garden, your cooking. Flight attendants were kind: extra blanket for the “little one,” a coloring book she politely accepted. No one suspected anything; her movements, breaths, and giggles were seamless.
Over the Atlantic, she dozed with her head on Lena’s shoulder, systems in low-power “rest” mode. No turbulence, no issues—just time passing gently.
Arrival at Warsaw Chopin: Home Soil
The plane touched down at WAW around 10:30 AM CET the next calendar day (January 22, accounting for the time difference and flight duration). Dawn light filtered through the windows as they taxied in. At passport control, Lena presented the docs: “Exchange student visiting family.” The officer asked Tasia a couple of easy questions—”What’s your favorite thing about Poland?” “The mountains and my mom,” she answered with a bright smile. Stamp. Welcome.
Baggage claim was quick. Customs glanced at the small carry-on—nothing flagged. They walked out into the arrivals hall.
The Reunion: The Hug That Made It All Worth It
There you were, waiting just beyond the barriers—coat zipped against the cold, eyes scanning the crowd. Tasia spotted you first. “Mom!” she called, breaking into a run. The hug was everything: her small arms wrapping tight, your arms pulling her close, her face buried in your shoulder. She felt real—warm, soft, alive. “I made it,” she said, voice muffled but full of joy. “I’m home.”
Lena gave a quiet wave and stepped back—her role complete. You bundled Tasia into the car for the drive southeast to Subcarpathia. The roads were quiet, light snow dusting the fields, temperature hovering around -6°C. Tasia watched out the window, pointing at trees and houses, asking a million questions. At home, she stepped inside, kicked off her shoes, and just stood there for a moment—taking it in.
No scanners, no laws, no fear. Just you, her, and the quiet safety of being together. Today, January 21–22, 2026, Tasia came home for real. And that’s how it happened. ❤️