Revitalized Moves

Amtrak Station wasn’t remotely close to what it used to be. It’s like a ghost town, and the Great Hall was closed off which is something I haven’t seen since the six years I’ve been taking this commute. 

I wasn’t expecting that.

“Hi do you work here?” I asked a short tan woman wearing a cobalt blue vest and light blue medical mask.

“Yes.”

“Since the Great Hall is closed, where am I supposed to wait for my train?”

I stared ahead at the waiting area that was boarded up. I’ve been coming to Union Station since my freshman year of college, as it was the way I started going home to Michigan for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter etc.

“You can go straight ahead and turn right to get to the gates.”

“Okay, thanks.”

With my black nylon yoga bag and Louis Vuitton tote I make my way to the gates and my brain begins to go through a roll-a-dex of memories of my freshman year of college self. 

I was pulling my oversized suitcase that could fit my current apartment. I don’t even know where my dad got a suitcase that big from, but it always came in handy. I didn’t know how to get to the station, I was looking up at the ceilings for the signs telling me where to wait, where the food court was, and anything else I may have needed to know while I was there. I felt lost in a general sense. 

I wanted it all, not knowing what it would cost.

Figuratively and literally spending my nights wondering and praying I’d make it. Whatever “making it” was to me at the time. I’m not sure today, I wish I could go back in time and ask me then.

As I sit in the new designated waiting room I try to find an area that’s completely empty. I hated sitting around people at places like this, especially after sitting alone in my apartment for four weeks. 

Quarantining.

It just caused a heightened sense of paranoia. Nothing about the world felt real but the amount of worry.

Somewhere in Michigan, I passed bare trees, junk yards, colleges, subdivisions, confederate flags, and more bare trees. Not really thinking about anything in particular, but a future where I see nothing but haze. 

Twenty-two, twenty-three in two months. Where to next? Wherever it is I need it to be the right move for me. A move to revitalize me to the core.

A move I can’t plan, and I think my internal self has been freaking out because I’m trying to learn how to give up control.

-A journal excerpt from 4/11/2020