A Glimpse Without Chains

Musings upon first leaving on vacation by myself to go see my future place of residence.

I hadn't seen her since March.

The entire week prior my stomach had been a silent mass of nerves twisting and aching. Predominating the fears and doubts I had tried to forget stowed in the back of my head. They never went away. A week was one thing, but an entire month? In an area, almost 600 miles away from my family with no sense of familiarity other than my shrimpy girlfriend and the phone conversations I had overheard on an almost daily basis. My mother was in shambles and my grandmother was constantly fretting over my wellbeing. Several times I could see that they wanted to coerce me from this endeavor, only out of concern, but I would not be swayed. This was something I had to do, there was no option.

I was sick and exhausted the morning of departure. The airport was bustling with early worm travelers and my family seated around a tiny table in an almost vacant cafe. I managed half a blueberry muffin, giving the other side to my sister. I was surprised my stomach did not rebel the nourishment as I was accustomed to. A few sips of organe juice and I was set until Philadelphia. There weren't too many tears shed as I headed through the security gates, which I was extremely grateful for, but the overwhelming excitement of traveling by myself far outweighed the lingering sadness of parting from my parents.

In all actuality, I was surprised I felt so little sadness. Instead, I was overjoyed.

Any shred of nerves I had disappeared on the planes from Akron to Portland. Crossing through frozen seas of frothy clouds thousands of feet up, being so high it felt as if the sun were but an arm's length away, gleaming off the wings into my eyes. Look ahead, it seemed to say, there's a bright future ahead of you. A glimpse of the life you've paved for yourself in a year.

When I landed in Portland my heart soared. As if the heavy chains wrapped tight around the wings had loosened enough for me to shake them off. It was beautiful. Acres of untamed forest dotted by one-horse Mantua-esque towns leading up into what Maine considered a city. Living outside of Cleveland and Akron all my life it amused me.

Stephanie and Tia, my girl's best friend, met me at the bottom of the escalator. There was none of the strangeness that most people percieve in long-distance relationships. Instead it felt as if that had been where I had come from. It was familiar and warm, making fun of the "fail door" on the way out of the airport and into Tia's car. We headed out onto the highway into Biddeford, a small city that reminded me strongly of driving through downtown Kent. This was what they considered a city? I laughed. This was a small city, almost a town, to me.

The apartment was small and set back in an area desperate for a little TLC. I had to say I was a tad skeptic passing by a broken window up a steep hill leading to a tall white buiding with paint peeling off the walls. It was alright, Stephanie assured me, it was nicer on the inside.

Inside it was easily definable as a college kid's home. It made me smile. Dishes were piled high, there were clothes on the floor and very little furniture. My mother would have been somewhere between shock and envy, much of the countertops and doors were wood. There wasn't much room but it was cozy enough for the three of us, four plus Tia's boyfriend Keith. It was somewhat like I had imagined it but it didn't take me long to settle in.

Home. I looked around me. This was home. Any doubts I had were washed away in glasses of water and video games. They eagerly brought me into their lives and neighbors who had heard of the infamous Ohioan girlfriend came over to meet me. Any doubts I had once had about moving up into the area, hating the life I saw in the future, were gone.

There were no regrets to be had.

And now as I wake each morning watching the computer clock slowly count down the days of my return home I know with absolute assurance that this is where I belong. Along the way I met many amazing people, made some new friends, and experienced what it's like to live without shackles binding me down to the earth. The wings will be tied when I go back to the Midwest but in a year's time I'll shake them loose for good and spread my wings to soar away from the nest into a whole new world.