It was a bright August afternoon and the old bus rolled slowly along the dry hills. Everything looked dead and I could smell, no, taste the dust that lingered in the air. What was I doing there? I had spent so much time away that the place I had been born wasn’t my home anymore. The people were foreign to me, the language sounded strange and the weather was irritating.
Somehow, nostalgic thoughts found their way in. Memories of a bored girl who dreamed of doing more with her life than staring out the window. I used to take this same bus every week back and forth because I worked in the neighbour town. My family always waited for me with fresh treats and gossip. It’s a small town, after all. Everyone knows everyone, or at least those who matter. If you didn’t want people discussing your life like they owned it, you’d better hide.
When I was sixteen I had braces, not to mention a lot of acne and a flat chest but managed to have a really cute boyfriend, who also happened to wear braces at the time and because of that I spent months explaining that no, we never got tangled or stuck while kissing. Before we were together, a girl I was best friends with for a few months had a big crush on him, but he was in love with me. I had to choose and we never spoke again. I felt horrible like I always did when somebody was mad at me and I craved her forgiveness but life went on. I think that guy is married now, I don’t know, we haven’t spoken in ages.
The first boy I ever kissed died in an accident a few years ago. I didn’t go to the funeral and every time I’m back in town I think I see him somewhere. The realization is always a shock. I was a thirteen-year-old nerd when we dated for a whole of two months! He was very popular and the gossip mob was hot in my ears: he was seen kissing a new girl every now and then. True or not, I couldn’t handle it for more than eight weeks, when I was already falling in love again.
Aaah, those lazy teenage years: falling in and out of love, all the drama, the crying, the first times, the promises, the boredom, the constant feeling that something was missing. I felt that lack every day of my life, until I decided to go looking. My mother cried, my sister cried and I cried, saying goodbye and not knowing when we would see each other again. My father and brother tried very hard and didn’t drop a tear.
I was terrified. Why was I doing that? I never felt so alone and so free at the same time! I was flying away from conformity and narrow-mindedness towards the complete unknown. My future stretched out in front of me with infinite possibilities and with some luck I would find that missing piece.
For a while there I thought “This is it! This is how I want to live, I’m meant to see the world”. I felt all the things I needed to be complete: independence, confidence, excitement, wonder, growth, pride. I had friends, I travelled, life had changed.
Then why was I coming back, sitting alone on that old bus, mourning a life left behind and that would never come back?
We entered the town and absolutely nothing had changed. Same houses, same stores, same people. Old and stale. I feared getting stuck there again. My body was sore from more than twenty hours of travelling, my stomach growled with hunger and I tried to cry as quietly as I could.
The bus station was crowded and loud, but as soon as we approached our stop I saw my family waiting for me. Big smiles and gentle hugs welcomed me back and right there, lost in my mother’s scent and warmth I realized why I had to come back and understood that my soul would always yearn for something I don’t know.
Somehow, nostalgic thoughts found their way in. Memories of a bored girl who dreamed of doing more with her life than staring out the window. I used to take this same bus every week back and forth because I worked in the neighbour town. My family always waited for me with fresh treats and gossip. It’s a small town, after all. Everyone knows everyone, or at least those who matter. If you didn’t want people discussing your life like they owned it, you’d better hide.
When I was sixteen I had braces, not to mention a lot of acne and a flat chest but managed to have a really cute boyfriend, who also happened to wear braces at the time and because of that I spent months explaining that no, we never got tangled or stuck while kissing. Before we were together, a girl I was best friends with for a few months had a big crush on him, but he was in love with me. I had to choose and we never spoke again. I felt horrible like I always did when somebody was mad at me and I craved her forgiveness but life went on. I think that guy is married now, I don’t know, we haven’t spoken in ages.
The first boy I ever kissed died in an accident a few years ago. I didn’t go to the funeral and every time I’m back in town I think I see him somewhere. The realization is always a shock. I was a thirteen-year-old nerd when we dated for a whole of two months! He was very popular and the gossip mob was hot in my ears: he was seen kissing a new girl every now and then. True or not, I couldn’t handle it for more than eight weeks, when I was already falling in love again.
Aaah, those lazy teenage years: falling in and out of love, all the drama, the crying, the first times, the promises, the boredom, the constant feeling that something was missing. I felt that lack every day of my life, until I decided to go looking. My mother cried, my sister cried and I cried, saying goodbye and not knowing when we would see each other again. My father and brother tried very hard and didn’t drop a tear.
I was terrified. Why was I doing that? I never felt so alone and so free at the same time! I was flying away from conformity and narrow-mindedness towards the complete unknown. My future stretched out in front of me with infinite possibilities and with some luck I would find that missing piece.
For a while there I thought “This is it! This is how I want to live, I’m meant to see the world”. I felt all the things I needed to be complete: independence, confidence, excitement, wonder, growth, pride. I had friends, I travelled, life had changed.
Then why was I coming back, sitting alone on that old bus, mourning a life left behind and that would never come back?
We entered the town and absolutely nothing had changed. Same houses, same stores, same people. Old and stale. I feared getting stuck there again. My body was sore from more than twenty hours of travelling, my stomach growled with hunger and I tried to cry as quietly as I could.
The bus station was crowded and loud, but as soon as we approached our stop I saw my family waiting for me. Big smiles and gentle hugs welcomed me back and right there, lost in my mother’s scent and warmth I realized why I had to come back and understood that my soul would always yearn for something I don’t know.
