Transit

Welcome to Chicago, the voice booms across the speaker. It seems warm out, I sweat in my jacket and scarf and I didn't need all these clothes but they kept the weight out of my checked suitcase and that was worth it. I leave my sister at a California-bound gate, am suddenly alone after the social whirlwind of the last few days, avoid trying to see what I'm feeling. I don't want to know. 

I sit down at an empty gate. It fills slowly, turns into a LaGuardia wait; I look at the people around me and wonder if it is obvious they are going to New York. It is not. Everyone looks like America. 

Everything looks like home. 

Something new is coming now. I do not know what it will be or how my place in it will appear. All I know is that I have no choice but to roll with the punches. I chose the rolling stone, I will lie in the bed that I made. 

And it will be okay

Because it has to.