A ramble through worlds

My heart is crammed up into the tight space of my throat. It expands tightly, choking off my air supply as I move on heavy legs. I glance at the digital numbers on the wall clock as rain mists everything over with a dewy finish. Nausea churns in my belly forcing me to quickly stand. I rush to the bathroom, my entire being shakes. I take a few deep breaths as only tears start to come out.
“What's the matter?” My father asks.
“I can't do it, I'm scared.” My voice sounds small as I return to the living room.
“Yes, you can. You'll be fine.”
I can only nod as I balance on the edge of the sofa.
My brothers load my suitcase in the back of the car when the time comes to take me to the greyhound station. I hug my siblings close and kiss them goodbye. They are what is driving me to do this. To prove that there is more than just this small town in life. There are bigger things in store if you're willing to reach for them.
At the station I feel the weight of my decision. It presses heavily upon my nineteen year old shoulders as I wheel my single suitcase along the tiles. My pillow and blanket tucked tightly under my trembling arm. I don't have to say anything, my dad knows. He wraps me in his big arms, crushes my face to his broad chest that smells fresh and safe. I don't want to leave this just yet. He whispers that he is proud of me. Tears soak through the front of his shirt as I cling to the last moments of my safety and childhood.
The bus loads and I press my face against the window. As we drive away, I weep harder. This should be exciting. I'm moving to a place I've dreamed of for so long but all I can feel is the weight of sadness and fear in my belly.
Twenty one hours with my knees crammed into my chest and awkward sleeping positions leave me feeling achy and anxious. I've been here before, but my eyes are wide as the bus pulls along the winding highway to the Lincoln Tunnel. From our vantage point I see the buildings brushing the clouds as they drift lazily by in the August heat.
I step off the bus a now a twenty year old who feels so much close to twelve. The fear is still very much real. This place has chewed up the spirit of many a person so much stronger than I. Yet, here I stand. It is scarcely past noon and the heat from the cement is baking through my Chucks. Despite the uncertainty I had been feeling previously I can't help but smile to myself as I think, New York City you and I are going to be together for a long time.