Strange Words

Personally, I find it terrifying when you think about growing up. It feels like a sudden realization that you won’t be a kid forever, that the life you live won’t always be in the same setting with the same people that you grew up to be so comfortable with. The reality can hit you like a kick to the stomach and all you can do is double over and take it in. But there is a part of growing up that is natural, and a part that disguises some of the greatest torment we as people will ever get to know. To take account of one’s actions is growth; to guard others rather than being self indulgent is growth; to react to disaster with calm thoughts and decisive leadership is growth.

I watched my feet as I stepped on the carpet of leaves leading towards to the coffee shop. The familiar smell of filtered coffee filled and dissipated into the crisp cold autumn air as I opened the door. My nose tingled with the standard scent that I knew was going to follow each and every morning from that point on as I waited in line. And as I stood and watched the skilled hand of the coffee barista pour the perfect amounts of creamer and sugar into my drink, my eyes followed the thin wisps of hazy white steam that rose from the hot cup. I took the drink into my hands with my tense muscles relaxing as I sipped slowly from my coffee. The smell of freshly grounded beans stimulated every single nerve in my body with a feeling of bliss that seemed to explode in me.

I drank it slowly, and I smiled to myself while I muttered under my breath, “Still addicted.”

As I turned to leave I took in the cafe door, which must have once been a brilliant cherry red, but now had become brittle as it faded due to the sunlight; the seasons seemed to have taken their toll on everything in this town, baking it in the summer, freezing in the coldest months. I ran my gloved hand down to the elongated handle of the door, skinny at the edges, and thicker in the middle, memorizing it all before I leave. Then I seized it. Ramming the door open, and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk.

Once outside I watched as an invisible spiral of wind pulled the golden leaves down from the trees above. It shook slightly, as if they could have been whisked away at any second by the grip of an icy breeze, but it just kept floating down, twirling to the ground, and laid on the amber and bronze blanket that coated the sidewalk. I felt like it was calling me, to bend over and pick it up, but in the back of my mind I knew that I should leave it where it was and move on.

With each stride I took my mind become more clear, as if the growing physical distance between me and my home had started becoming an emotional chasm far to big for me to cross and I froze. I could feel the warmth of my coffee move around through the cup and seep through my gloves into my chilled fingers. The constant breeze sent shivers sprinting throughout my entire body down to my shaking legs. Everything around me felt as if it was moving on without me and I was stuck right where I was. I think of the place in my mind, that stores all my worries, like a cup of coffee. I look down at the cup in my hand. Everything that made me anxious would be more coffee in that cup, and should it get too full-which it usually does-then any bump is enough to make it overflow.

Even with my eyes closed I could tell something about those who pass me. Erratic steps were those of children pittering after their guardian, tentative was a woman in smart clothing, what seemed to work like clockwork was a man on his way to work. Every once in a while the soft scattering sound gave away the presents of a dog.

This was going to be my new home. This was where I will make new friends and make new memories. This new town was where I will learn to grow and change. This was where my life will start over and I can be independent. I can learn who I really am.