The Horizon

What happens when your dreams change; you plan your path and suddenly, it shifts.

Almost a year ago I sojourned to New York City, New York.

As a girl from small suburban city Canada, I’m sure you can imagine my graceful entrance to NYC, how wide my bright blue eyes stretched, as my naive little self clamored off the bus (in West Harlem), to proceed down a foreign street to my new little apartment.  Now further imagine my struggle, as I wheeled my suitcases past, the gaggles of men, the pungent stench of garbage and through the sounds of Spanish music that clung to the air on high volume. 

As I unlocked the door, I breathed in and ever so painfully trying to smile thus proceeding my way into my looming apartment; I was so scared. The fears of the unknown world kept me indoors for the next 24hours.  My housemates were very welcoming; they drew maps and gave directions to get coffee and to attend church. Instead of venturing though, I spent the day sleeping and while in-between sleeping I was thinking, “Can I go outside? Is it safe?” I tucked myself away on the top bunk in my unfamiliar pea-sized bedroom. Finally when sleep would no longer come, I left the cocoon and quietly climbed down to wander the apartment. I crept around almost on tiptoe as if I had to be in silence. Old rumors ran through my mind, like an old movie: as to how unsafe Harlem was. The constant thoughts became questions, “What was I thinking; moving to New York City - all by myself? How can I go outside? What do I say - do I say Hi?”