“Don’t forget to call me. Doesn’t have to be as soon as you get there, but when you get settled. Alright, sweetie?”

“Sure, mom.” I gave my mother one last hug before climbing into my beat-up civic. I watched her from my side mirror as I put the car in drive, and started to pull down the driveway. I smiled as I saw her wipe her eyes; it was just like my mom to wait til I was gone to cry. I focused on the road ahead, blinking back a tear myself.

I’d never really left my hometown of Sparks, Oklahoma, but here I was, on my way to college in a completely different part of the country. It was a big step, and one I’d almost decided against. But my mom, surprisingly enough, was the one who talked me into it. She said I needed to broaden my horizons. I worried about leaving her behind, but she assured me she could hold her own. I knew she could; she’d raised me by herself, in a town where single moms weren’t exactly common. She was a strong, independent, kind woman, and I was really lucky to have her.

She’d had to give up a lot of her dreams when she had me; she’d been going to college, but had to drop out and get a full-time job when my dad was killed overseas. I never met him, but mom says I remind her of him every day. She got a job waitressing at a diner, and worked double shifts while our neighbors watched me. When I was six, the owner of the diner retired, and sold her the business.

People thought she wouldn’t be able to manage it, but my mom turned the place around, making it one of the best diners in the county. She still had to work a lot, but she always made sure I was taken care of. We weren’t rich, but we had enough. Mom set aside most of what she made for my college fund; she always said not finishing school was her only regret, and she wanted to make sure I got the chance she didn’t.

So it wasn’t too surprising when my senior year of high school rolled around, that she started looking at schools for me. She said I could go anywhere, with two exceptions: no ivy league (we both laughed at that – my grades weren’t that good), and nowhere in Oklahoma. I was surprised at that, but mom told me she wanted me to see the world, or at least more of it than Creek County. So she insisted that I looked only at out-of-state schools.

Knowing how much I’ve always loved art, she hinted pretty heavily at NYU. And as scary as it was to go that far away, the thought was seriously tempting. I applied, but tried not to get my hopes up. But one afternoon in March, I came home from school to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table, her foot tapping impatiently.

She didn’t say anything, but handed me a large manila envelope; my hands were shaking as I tore it open, hoping it was what I thought. It was. We both cheered, mom cried and hugged me, and we went out to dinner that night at the fanciest restaurant in town. Over the following five months, I went back and forth between being excited and terrified, but she stood behind me the whole time.

So now I was on my way east, leaving behind everything I knew. It was still scary, but I was looking forward to it. New York City, the place where anything can happen, was calling me. Art, theater, music, culture, variety; everything that life in my small town wasn’t. I couldn’t wait to take pictures in Central Park, or see a show on Broadway, or stare up at the towering billboards in Times Square.

But it was more than just the tourist attractions that were beckoning me to the big city. I craved diversity, people with different ideas and views and opinions. I’d always felt out of place at home; everyone went to the same church, had the same political views, even liked the same music. My mom was different, but she was one of a kind. She knew I was different, too; she said it was why it was so important for me to get out while I still could.

I wasn’t a radical, in direct opposition to everything my friends and neighbors stood for; I just didn’t want to be a sheep. I wanted to make informed decisions, rather than just following the stream. Maybe I would end up agreeing with their way of life, but not without seeing what other options existed. But then again, maybe I would find something totally new that spoke to me in ways I never thought possible.

The possibilities were endless, and I was filled with a hopeful optimism as I crossed the state line. I didn’t know what lay ahead of me, but it had to be better than sitting at home, working at the diner, playing video games, and taking pictures of the same boring sights. If nothing else, it would be different, a break from the monotony of my fairly sheltered life.

I pulled into a small motel in Jonesboro, Arkansas around nine, when my eyelids started getting heavy. I still had a long way to go, but I was enjoying my decision to drive. For one thing, I hated the thought of selling my car, or letting it sit in a garage. I’d bought it with my own money the previous summer, and it was my pride and joy. It was a bit older, and rough around the edges, but it got me where I needed to go.

Also, I’d always wanted to go on a road trip. I didn’t really have time to stop and sight-see, but just seeing different parts of the country was worth it. I’d be passing through Nashville the following day, and would probably drive around for a while before moving on. I’d planned out my trip, leaving on Friday morning, and arriving in New York on Sunday, just in time to check in to my dorm.

I’d considered the possibility of renting an apartment, but I didn’t want to have to worry about getting a job. That, and I was still a little nervous about living alone anywhere, let alone New York City. So, I’d signed up for housing, and was assigned a room in a building not too far from the campus. I was moving into a double, so I’d have one roommate, something I was looking forward to. I hoped he was someone I could get along with, maybe even be friends with.

I let out a deep sigh as I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me. It’d been a stressful day, even though not much had happened; the hardest step is always the first, my mom had said before I left. I thought of her, and smiled sadly. I knew she would be okay, but I still missed her. My chest tightened as the gravity of my decision began to settle on me. I had left home. There was no going back. I wouldn’t be seeing my mom, or my house, or the diner, for a long time.

I rolled onto my side, sniffling loudly. I felt silly to be homesick already, but I’d never been away from home for more than a few days, so the thought of being gone for months was hitting me harder than I’d expected. I tried to calm down, but my head was buzzing with thoughts and worries. I tossed and turned uneasily, before finally falling into a restless sleep, filled with fuzzy memories and visions.

When I woke up, however, all my doubts had faded into the background, leaving in their place a calm, steady confidence. Everything would work itself out, the way it was supposed to. I’d made my decision, and there was no sense in wasting my thoughts on anything else. My life was finally beginning, and I was ready to follow the path before me, whatever it held. I had my mom’s support, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t go home if I had to. But I was committed to making this work, to getting out and seeing what the world had in store for me.

Every motivational cliche I’d ever heard ran through my head as I set out, and I laughed at myself for being so cheesy. I cranked the stereo up and rolled the windows down, singing along as loud as I could. I’d never felt so alive, so free, because I’d never been so free. I felt like I could take anything the big, bad city threw at me. I was taking control of my destiny, and it felt great. New York City, bring it on!

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