A Ten Minute Trek

Working about ten minutes from home has always made it easy to save money on gas for my parents, so I generally leave a half an hour before i’m scheduled to start my shift. The walk there is spent calming my nerves for the long hours of customer service ahead and I’ll admit I find it difficult to reach a state of calm.

However, it’s the evenings, around 7 or a bit after, that I find the time to give my mind the space it needs to breathe.

I walk out the door with the rest of my coworkers, waving our goodbyes and thanking each other for our collective efforts and good work. Without fail the sky draws my eyes upward, demanding its sunset display to be properly appreciated. It’s because of this that my phone is filled with pictures of the sky, the clouds, and the early evening colors.

With my music in my ears and the new pictures in my phone, i’m ready to leave.

It’s a straight shot down the main road and it’s often busy with people, I retreat behind my music. It helps me stand up straighter and steadies my footsteps while I mull over my day.

Which customer made me smile the biggest, did anyone make me frown?

I hold onto the positive thoughts and collect them away, allowing the negative to be scraped beneath my sneakers like the broken up cement on the sidewalks. I breathe it out carefully.

After that I think about right now. I’ve just graduated high school, i have a full time job, i’m working to find who i want to be and what i want to contribute to the world. Can I contribute?

I feel the memory of a care filled message that assured me i was here to “shake things up” and it never fails to fill me with positivity.

In my head I plot ways to further myself and push my creativity. How long before i’ve saved enough for a laptop? When will I sit myself down to update those stories i’m working on? What pictures will I use for that new cover?

A question of my parents always arises. Will they ever approve of where i want to go in life? What I wear, who I love?

I remind myself not to rely too heavily on their opinion of me based on the actions of our shared past. I won’t be controlled by them, I won’t stop living to make them happy.

As thoughts always are, my line of thinking is disjointed and inconsistent, I may think of a new plot line for a story, overhear a conversation i’d like to add between characters, or see something my fingers itch to describe with the words swirling around my head. I’ll write it down, the green of the leaves, the set of a jaw, the hue of the sky.

I’ll drink it in and breathe in the air of dusk, I’ll climb the stairs and search for my keys even though i can hear my mom unlocking the door for me.

I’ve made it.