Part One: Freedom's Relief.
It was raining. My skin was beginning to itch for the moisture those million tiny drops would provide. I was aching for the feel of hot summer rain against my cool skin. I found myself resisting the urge to burst out from indoors and dance in the street, to let rain wash over me and cleanse my soul. I wanted to relish in the freedom of midnight rain and revel in the creativity of a soaked twilight. For far too long I have been pent up inside my own mind, waiting for the clouds to burst open over my head. Finally, they had erupted and I found myself hesitating. Hesitation. It was my life, my motto and I was sick of it. I hated myself because of it. I wanted to fly off the handle, to live without bounds. I guess that is how I found myself dripping wet and waterlogged. I was dancing in the rain. I never dance in the rain normally, let alone in the middle of the night. Jumping from puddle to puddle, I laughed and smiled. Realizing for the first time in a long time that I hadn't cracked a true smile for the better part of a year and God only knew who long it had been since I had laughed a full belly laugh.
When I awoke to a new day, my hair was still plastered to the side of my face and my damp clothes clung to my clammy body. Nonetheless, I felt exhilarated. Starting my day, I somehow convinced myself to head to class. Because no matte how boundless I may have been the night before, I still I knew I was supposed to be in class and not reveling in the feel of open air. But, when the bus to school arrived at my stop I couldn't force myself to board it. I quickly found myself running in the other direction. Running, for the first time, in a direction I chose.
I broke out, I was free, and I had no intentions of ever going back to being caged. Like an animal at the zoo, born and bred in captivity, I longed to be wild. The taste of freedom was fresh against my tongue as I took it in and swirled it about my mouth. Delighting in the sweetest of my personal emancipation. No looking back, I whispered as I boarded the train that would take my away. I sat down, with my stubborn eyes focused, unwavering, on the tracks ahead.
I arrived fresh off the train from Jersey on that Tuesday afternoon with my entire savings (a staggering $1356.23) stowed deep inside my backpack in the pink porcelain piggy bank my Grandmother gave to me when I was five years old. Having read The Catcher in the Rye in the tenth grade I quickly acquired a locker at the depot. After stuffing $20 in my jeans and stowing the rest of my minimal luggage in my locker I set out into the city. It was exactly 12 minutes later when I found myself lost in Alphabet City (albeit, I had no idea that was where I was).
I wasn't completely sure why I was even in New York. I knew I had to get out, to get away from the farms of South Jersey and hicks of Salem County, even though, I knew deep down I was a hick too. You can't grow up on a dairy farm without getting a little red on your neck, but I wasn't really one of them. I never truly was. I was born in overalls that never fit, but New York City, what the hell was I thinking.
As I walked further down the streets into the heart of what I later found out to be known as Alphabet City I felt completely lost and longing for comforts of home. Homeless people lined the sidewalks, making me pass sideways at some points due to the sheer magnitude of them. I'm pretty sure a few of the women I saw walking down the street weren't even women at all. But there in the middle of it all was where I found it. The source of my journey, my reason for New York City, the question to my anticipated answer was there, leaning out on a rusting fire escape. I saw freedom in the eyes of a man I never knew. I saw creativity and warmth in a smile I only just experienced. I saw safety in the unknown, and I felt good. I felt alive. Looking down, he caught my gaze as I squinted into the sun, unwavering in my stare, unafraid of being seen.
He smirked at my tenacity and turned his gaze back to the rooftops that spread out on all sides of the street. I followed his gaze to the steaming roofs of New York City and smiled at their brilliance. Call me naïve but something about those moments made me positive that leaving everything I knew, everything I was with no plans and no safety net, was the most logical thing in the world.
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I'm still debating that truth. But one thing I do know is that I would give anything to go back to those moments and bottle that invincible feeling and pass it around. It's only now when I look back that I can honestly realize those feelings in both happiness and sadness.