A new horizon, a new home.

One man recommended the west end beach, apparently a certain spot where you could see the whole world when the sun touched the water. Well, she needed to know if he was right. Her feet dug into the warm sand, a feeling she forgot she loved. In one direction, there was a park, with a rocky shoreline, and trees sprouting out of the small patches of sand. The other way, a long, sandy heaven, with the sun's glow turning the sand into sparkles, gleaming against the blue water. 

She was in pure bliss. The man certainly wasn’t lying. The clouds were painted pink and gold, reflecting those same colors in the moving water. paw prints washing away in the wet sand, little things that made it all so…perfect. She could gaze forever. She had never wanted to look at something forever, in fact, she couldn't look away. She must have been there for an hour or more. The only thing stopping her from standing there all night was her sore neck (maybe looking up that long wasn’t the best idea). But the stars were so bright, and the waves were enticing, almost calling for her to wade in and let the fresh, chilly water wash over her. She wanted to see this view tomorrow, and next week, and next month, and next year. She wanted to fall in love with a place over and over. And she had a feeling she could, here. Maybe she would try to stay this time, and let everything good wash over her.There was always a sadness for her, with traveling. Her stomach ached as the scenery rushed by. 

She had never chosen to leave. It was always a choice made for her. 34 new places, soon to be 35. This one could be different. She was the one driving. Fast, with the windows down and hair floating through the car, bags packed full in the back, some zippers bulging just enough for it to not close. This time, everything felt so different. She’d left by herself, for herself. She was scared, butterflies banging against her stomach, fighting to be free. She was sad, even though she knew there was nothing to cry over. But she was also happy, undeniably happy. She was alone; there was silence, no yelling, no screaming, no loud TVs begging to be turned off, no "Motowns best hits" blaring. No fighting. Just…nothing. Nothingness was perfect—something she never knew was possible.

The air smelled like cherries, grass, and a lake’s shoreline…or at least what she imagined cherries smelled like. She’s never had them, was never allowed to, like most fruits. But apparently the town was known for them. A semi-small place in Michigan (a state she hadn’t ever gotten close to), far, far away from her lives before, but close enough not to feel like an alien in her own skin. It wasn’t like she chose the place in particular, though. She sped through the highways until she reached somewhere that felt new. New enough. Nothing was exactly brand new to her. After so many places, everything started to blend together like a smoothie, different fruits to different colors all becoming the same.

It took 6 hours, 43 minutes, and 15 seconds to pack everything she had ever owned into bags, containers, and ziplocks. Hastily piling things in her run-down car, no time or money to go get boxes or tape. It had been 232 days since she’d left the last time, in the same car, with a few more belongings, and a bit more money from odd jobs here and there. Staying in places long enough to remember one person's name, but nothing more. Every place she went had never felt right. Some came close, but there was always something—like a hill that reminded her of when she was 12, and her friend pushed her off the largest hill in the village. She broke her arm tumbling through the brush and sticks. There wasn’t time to be angry at her friend, or forgive her. Her family moved a week later, to a large city with no hills for miles and miles. Now, whenever she saw a large hill, her arm started to ache. So she ran from hills, and friends, and people who hurt her. Hell, that was the reason she was alone now, driving far from her family, her partner. Her ex-partner. The reminders of pain were too much, sometimes she could feel the sting on her cheek, she often found herself tracing the scars. So she was starting everything new, making her own choices, going her own way. It felt odd and fresh, but it was all her. 

Nearly the same feelings also came bubbling up for simple daily items, voices, scenery. Oceans that were tinted green, houses with white flowers outside, high pitched voices with a light gravelly tone. No place could be perfect, because she viewed herself as the problem. Without all her stupid fears, without the memories she couldn’t stand, maybe she could be happy anywhere. They say trauma shapes a person the most, but what if it’s the moments after? How one deals with those harmful events hours, days, weeks later. Maybe it wasn’t her friend who made her hate hills, maybe it was when she tried to go back to that same hill a day later, and then couldn’t be anywhere near it.

Even she couldn’t tell if she left because everything was her fault, or if she had enough of being blamed by everyone around her, just cause she would take it. A lifetime of shame placed on someone can confuse the soul. But she felt like it was just starting to become balanced, whisked away by her own feelings. Her vision became clearer as the city lights passed by, green trees blooming with leaves in different shades, cute little shops that reminded her of a town she went to as a kid—one of her favorite memories, one of the few. Getting a small cat plushie she’d held onto until it tore apart. And a restaurant near the shops, lights on their balcony and flowers on the doorstep, just like in the books, where a man meets a woman and falls in love in the little Italian place down the street, or the cafe with tiny outside seats and lots of laughter. She couldn’t help but think someday, in a coffee place like that, she could trust someone again.

She parked somewhere near the lakeshore, but close to the city. The sun might have still been in the sky, but it was soon coming down. Shops prepped to close, restaurants filled with couples out for a romantic night with a beautiful lake view. As she walked under the warm street lights, she took in the small details around her. The happy families walking back from the beach, sandals in their hands. 

Sun setting, she started to ask the passersby about places to stay; they were all kind and helpful. One old lady, Marian, with a smile that could light up a room, and deep eyes that had obviously seen many things in her life, told her about the inn she owned since the 70s, welcoming her to a perfect room for travelers, and offering as a dinner the leftover breakfast she made for guests in the morning. Marian gave her a card and the directions in simple terms, in case she did want to stay. Honestly? Marian reminded her of her own grandma, but if she was sweet, and actually cared for her.

One man recommended the west end beach, apparently there's certain spot where you could see the whole world when the sun touched the water. Well, she needed to know if he was right. Her feet dug into the warm sand, a feeling she forgot she loved. In one direction, there was a park, with a rocky shoreline, and trees sprouting out of the small patches of sand. The other way, a long, sandy heaven, with the sun's glow turning the sand into sparkles, gleaming against the blue water. 

She breathed in pure bliss. The man certainly wasn’t lying. The clouds were painted pink and gold, reflecting those same colors in the moving water. paw prints washing away in the wet sand, little things that made it all so…perfect. She could look forever. She had never wanted to look at something forever, in fact, she couldn't look away. She must have been there for an hour or more. The only thing stopping her from standing there all night was her sore neck (maybe looking up that long wasn’t the best idea). But the stars were so bright, and the waves were enticing, almost calling for her to wade in and let the water wash over her. She wanted to see this view tomorrow, and next week, and next month, and next year. She wanted to fall in love with a place over and over endlessly. Find the small things that could make her happy. Replace the bad memories with her own.

Finally, she felt like she might be able to breathe.