I was in my heels, my hair was done, and my make up made me look darker, more confident and approachable. I had my camera hanging on my shoulder and I was admiring the building from which I was in.
One person, two, three, suddenly I was surrounded by people, all of whom did not recognize me.
It was eight months. Eight months since I left, I haven’t changed much; my eyes are still the same, my laugh, my smile, my confidence though, has grown.
I stood there, watching, staring and suddenly it hit them. Slowly they turned their heads, gravitating toward me and then they collectively gasped.
A crowd of people gather about me and all I can do is smile. I am loved, I am missed. They stare at me, hold me, laugh with me as I tell my stories.
“How is it?”
“The most amazing decision!” I yell. My heart thinks otherwise, being with all these people forces my heart to beat as if it belongs there. I know better.
I walk away in silence, the same way I left, knowing that all the goodbyes and all the good lucks will not mean anything. I made my decision, I have to live with it.
I get back to my house and I see people gathered in the hallway.
“Will you take offense if I told you you look pretty. Because you do.” A smiling face says, asking me how it went. All I can do is smile and hope for the best.