Travel Stories

Just a little written keepsake for today. I took the fast train from Boston to NYC this morning, my home. Though my final destination leans to Philadelphia, I was always out of place there, an odd puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit anywhere, hiding in the library, quietly drawing weird things out of the way, didn’t want to be seen, always bullied, ostracized and socially outcasted again and again and again. Never in The Big Apple. Every single person met became my brothers and sisters almost instantaneously as if magic, they could see me and I was one of them, one of the people of the city. To belong is a rare feeling(tearing up as I type this), and New York always felt more like home than anything I have ever known.

Never been on a 100mph moving vehicle before. I was suddenly young, eagerly watching the landscape fly by, the coasts of Rhode Island, light dancing off the ocean and her vibrant sandy edges, horses in blankets stagnant in a single blink, caught from a painting in a flashlight. Suddenly, a bald eagle soared above on high, and I felt deeply blessed to be alive.

A kind young woman and her six year old daughter sat across from me. Though my headphones clinged loosely ear to ear, music blaring fairly loudly, I could hear the mother mention that she liked the song, probably Chopin. I dozed off into dreaming as tends to happen during the day(at least when not working) and when shaken from slumber by bells of a destination, I realized that they had fallen asleep too, gently leaning into one another.

I thought about what it would be like to raise a child someday, pretending to be mermaids, lucky number 7.

What it would be like to have a family of my own, storytelling in different accents, silly times, imagination games and the land of make believe.

I smiled softly, and fell back to sleep thinking quietly to myself, “I’m not entirely sure why, but there’s something about this moment that’s profoundly beautiful.” and drifted away.

Thanks for stoppin’ by.

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