Coming To America.

Seven hours ago my world was bathed in sunshine,warmth and the smell of a Caribbean beach.

The calm, gorgeous scenery juxtaposed against my excitement and fear of leaving everything behind.

Before I stopped on the plane, I had taken the biggest breath of my thirteen years, not knowing when I would smell that fragrant air again.

The plane landed to grey skies punctuated by Caribbean women clapping and thanking god that we made it safely despite the predicted bad weather.

I was new to this side of the equator and the air conditioned cabin of the plane did not prepare me for the chill of stepping into JFK International Airport.

I regretted my sartorial choice of a long denim skirt with thigh slits, a short sleeve shirt with “Maybeline” across the chest and strappy high heel shoes.

After customs, I walked into the arms of my mother who I hadn’t seen in five years.

We walked hand in hand to the bustop. I was beyond grateful she bought me a jacket.

We got on the bus and Queens, Ny flew past us on the way to Brooklyn.

I marveled at the new world as we waited to transfer to another bus.

As we stood under the glowy shelter it began to snow.

The snow fell unceasingly and I hoped and yearned beyond measure for it to mean something. That my friends were crying because they missed me, that this alien welcome meant the start of something beautiful. Something worth, metamorphosis.