Suitcase in hand, she headed to the station. The first snow danced with the wind as she walked, creating little swirls behind her. Her step was light as she neared the building. She could hear the whistles of the trains coming and going, but the deafening roar of a crowd had not reached her yet. The crisp air around her smelled like the looming winter, but that did not matter to her anymore. She was free at last.

Goodbyes are always bittersweet. In one swift motion you leave behind all you’ve ever known, and were you to come back, it is never the same. You become a guest in your own home, a stranger knowing the location of each and every item. Yet, it must be done. New houses are made into homes, and then left behind. Every time you return, things and people have changed. You have changed in a way so irrevocable, that it hurts when you realize you don’t quite fit in anymore. You’ve become the missing piece from the other puzzle, the one only taken out for holidays. She knew this. She knew how it would be impossible to turn back if she continued walking. But she had waited for too long already.

It was midnight when she got the call. She was just about to fall asleep but seeing her mother’s name on the screen chilled her to her core. She knew before she even picked up. “He has passed away.” It was barely a whisper, choked out to the new darkness surrounding them both. Shakily she got up, still on the phone, too numb to feel the coldness her tears left behind. When the call ended, she stepped out to her balcony, the light darkness of midsummer not shielding her from this new searing pain, stabbing her heart with ice. They had all known this would happen sooner rather than later. He had been sick for so long, that everyday together was a blessing. But as she stood there, the night air calm and quiet, she smiled for a moment. She knew he was suffering no longer. Memories, good and bad, waltzed around in her mind. She hadn’t stopped crying, but then again, she would not stop crying for quite a while. There was one more feeling brewing under the surface, one she daren’t give too much strength yet: freedom.

She had always dreamed big, creating vivid snapshots of her life outside the little town she grew up in. In some she was in her mid-20s, finishing up her studies, the rhythm of life found in the endless parties. In others she was walking down the aisle, with the celebrity of the month, who had fallen madly in love with her in a random bar by the beach. In her latest dream, she was in the neighboring city, known for its buzzling art district. She wanted to live there, to breathe in the atmosphere, and never exhale. She saw herself sitting in one of the quaint little cafés, watching people after her long shift in a meaningless job, as she worked on her first novel. This dream was different, this dream she could taste on the tip of her tongue. She could see it in the words she typed. It hadn’t changed in years, in those slowly rolling by as she patiently waited for her release.  

She had stopped walking. A brief moment of hesitation had gained control of her body, and she had to will it away. He had always encouraged her to follow her dreams, even when they were those of a silly young girl. The life that had been put to the back burner, anxiously running in circles between home, work, and hospital, was now ready to take flight again. She squeezed the handle of her luggage a bit tighter, as to reassure herself it was still there. That she was still doing this. She looked at the winter sky, snowflakes gently floating around her as the wind shook the nearby trees. One by one the lampposts lit up around her, and nearby houses dressed up in bright colors. A lone magpie hoped from one tree to another, before spreading its wings and leaving the station behind, flying towards something unknown. Just as she would in a matter of moments. She was free at last.