Just Go Home

She is home…

Even though nothing here feels familiar, this was home to her twenty-two years ago. The flight was short. It was a little too easy to travel from one world to another. The weather is rainy and humid. Destroying straight hair and creating annoying frizz. The roads are packed with cars driving too fast and honking too much. She meets people who have known her since she was a baby. She travels on streets she has been on before. She stays in the apartment building she was brought to as a newborn. This place was her home. Even if only for a short time, it was where she was born. The time she spent here was enough for her to remember nothing. She is taken all over this place and experiences the beginning of her new life. Some parts feel odd and uncomfortable. And yet there are others that she seems to effortlessly understand. A part of her slips into this new routine with no problem at all. She knows that whether she stays here in this new life or goes back, nothing will be the same. Nothing can take away the memories she has made, and she will look at the world in a completely different way now.

The apartment is small, but she cannot complain. Her portion of the rent is manageable, and she is so excited to be here. She walks back and forth to Target for groceries. She did not bring her car, this is New York, after all. She calls the woman who promised her a job in the industry she hopes to break into. A writing internship in New York; she can hardly believe this is her life. It has not seemed real until now. Days go by, and she does not hear anything. She calls again, yet still does not hear back. A few weeks go by, and she realizes she needs another plan. She can get a job and continue writing, submitting poems and stories for publication and hopefully one day start to make money from it. Soon she has a job at the Macys in Flushing. It takes a quick walk and a bus ride to get there. The other employees she meets are kind. Potential friends, perhaps? She submits her writing to publishing companies eagerly awaiting a reply.

In her spare time, she explores the city. She waits for the subway on crowded platforms, the air thick with steam and grime, and feels so proud of herself for coming this far. She travels to Central Park to walk around and find a bench to sit on while working on her writing. She wanders around Bryant Park and enjoys a slice of pizza. She walks across the Brooklyn Bridge, the same walk her parents took on their first date over two decades ago. She even gets a library card so she can check out books to occupy some of her time. While going up and down the aisles she imagines what it will be like to see her name on one of these books someday. A real, published author.

Then October 21 comes around and it is her birthday. She turns twenty-three in New York, the place where she was born. Her birthday dinner is spent at the Applebee’s in Times Square. She enjoys her food in a place that is becoming more and more familiar to her, just like home should feel. And yet, something does not quite feel right.

She feels disappointed that none of her writing submissions have been accepted. She feels frustrated that the original plan of the writing internship fell through. No friends have been made. She spends her days mainly alone, unsure of this whole experience. Doubt begins to show, but she does not want to give up yet. She does not want this to be a failure. She has wanted this for so long and had so much hope it would work out.

Days go by, then weeks. Nothing changes. The doubts continue, and she is not sure she was ready for this. She wonders if things would have been different if she was older, more experienced, or more confident. What if she had been more persistent about the writing internship? Why hadn’t she called more or tried harder? She cannot let this be the end.

It is Thanksgiving Day. She watches the Thanksgiving Day parade at the apartment she is staying in. Cold weather is starting to hit the city and reminds her winter is on the way. She has been in New York for three months, which sounds short but feels like a long time. She is not sure how much longer she can do this. She knows she needs to decide soon.

One day as she is doing some city exploring, she walks through an underground subway station, keeping pace with the crowd of people around her. Suddenly, something tells her to look up. At the top of the cement ceiling, someone has used red paint to write these words: Just Go Home. “Is this a sign?” She wonders to herself. “How could that be a coincidence? Is it really that simple? Just Go Home.”

Finally, she knows what her decision is. She texts her mom and says she is ready. She is ready to come back. Her mom asks what is wrong, and if she is sure that is her decision. Without knowing how to put into words how or why she knows, she says she just does. She knows it is time.

And it really is as simple as that. Her clothes and personal items are packed away. She quits her job. She thanks the woman who let her stay in her apartment, telling her she will forever be grateful for helping her during this experience. And she means that.

A flight is booked. Before she knows it, it is time for her to go.

She takes a taxicab to the airport. Her bags are checked, and she boards her flight. The plane ride takes less than three hours, and she arrives.

She is home…