Longing for a Place That Isn’t Mine

The seat was uncomfortably stiff and dirty, yet the only way to get home. The bus came to a screeching halt, and I wondered if only this bus could stay still forever. Just then, I realized the heavy traffic before us, which made the process even more unbearable. Little did I know, many more screeching halts would come. The window that was beside me was foggy and covered in raindrops. I watched tears fall from the sky and race each other to the bottom of the glass. After many minutes, we finally found a way out of the congested traffic and onto the highway. I looked out the window, and to my surprise, a clear view of the New York City skyline appeared, now engraved into my memory. I reached down to open my phone. With my headphones fully charged, I pressed play, and the sound of “Back to the Old House” by The Smiths rang through my ears, making the moment feel surreal. Five days prior, when I first arrived, I dreaded the moment that had now come. It was the moment that I was leaving the only place that made me feel like I belonged. 

Still admiring the skyline, I started to envision my life in fifteen years. I saw myself walking down the streets of Manhattan, my arm linked to someone I deeply admire. My other hand held a leash that my future dog is attached to, sniffing every flower bed we passed. Excited, knowing the frisbee that was clutched in my partner's hand would fly over Central Park very shortly. I came back to reality. A tear fell from my lower lash line and down the side of my cheek. A tear that resembled my love for the city and my longing to spend my life in a place like that. A place filled with energy and opportunity. I shifted my body away from my mom, who sat beside me, unaware of my emotions, which was exactly how I wanted it to be.

 I will forever hate that bus, not because of its dirty and stiff seats, but because it brought me back here, to a small town in Vermont. Not a day goes by that I don’t relive those moments in the city. When I saw strangers walking down the street, I thought, What is their story? Why are they here? Where are they going? Those questions never cross my mind when I see people in my small town. In the city, my curiosity expanded as I explored. In this small town, I am trapped with only a dirty bus with stiff seats to bring me back to where I long to be.