Stand Clear Of The Closing Doors Please
As August rolls away and September settles in, I find myself in the most unfamiliar, yet familiar, territory. I'm no longer waking through the academic spine on a near daily basis, trading it out for a subway ride downtown every morning. My breakfast no longer consists of cereal or bagels because bread from a Chinese bakery is actually more accessible in Flushing. Somehow, four years have gone by and college is slowly becoming a distant memory. I guess I'm home, seeing as I've spent the majority of my life in New York City. Yet, I can't help but replay the memories of heading up to Buffalo in preparation for the first few weeks of classes. I've grown comfortable with the "assigned" seating in the Student Union and the welcoming back of friends here for another semester. Most of all, I yearn for the opportunity to meet the fresh batch of incoming students. To them, I'm only a wispy legend, retold in reminiscence and nothing more.
Even now, I can't decide if not being at Buffalo is heart-wrenching or a blessing. When people ask me about my time there, I mention how it's a frozen tundra wasteland, and often fail to recount the warming comfort of friends who were like family to me. It's easy to delve into the negative and all that went wrong. Often, I'm bitter at the things and people who have hurt me. So, yes, I do tend to mull over the pain and regurgitate it as a painting of Buffalo.
I wish I had the ability to extract some of these people from Buffalo because I have a list ready. Maybe that's why I bash the place so much. Everyone always says it's the people, not the place, and as far as I'm concerned, some of the people I care for and love the most are still there. It's no wonder I consistently attempt to dissuade them from staying there too long. Call it being selfish but I'll categorize it being human to justify myself a little bit.
Moving on eventually happens to everyone, even to the ones who decide to stay in Buffalo. I knew my time there was over and most people will know it when it comes. If life ever had us sitting in one place for the rest of our lives, I wouldn't really call it living. You see, moving on isn't about changing locations but certainly more so about us growing as individuals and becoming something we weren't before. Sometimes these things can be for the worse but hopefully more for the better. Heaven knows God has specific plans for us all and moving on is simply another step in continuing along that journey.
One day I'll realize I'm moving on again, entering a different phase, season, or whatever you'd like to call it. It'll probably be a sad moment, but I also hope a joyous one. For the next few months, maybe years, however, I'll be on this train and it's about to leave the platform. I hear it everyday, on the subway, going to work and I'm sure I'll hear it for the rest my life, whether it be ushering me into a crowded 5 train or telling me it's time to move onto the next stop of my life.
Stand clear of the closing doors please.