My first thoughts of this place was formed thousands of feet in the air, as I flew in over New York, midnight just passed but the lights could deceive you into thinking it was only dusk. My first embrace here was from my Mother, she was completely covered from head to toe, I could only see her eyes but I knew it was her. She was my dream, my lie, my everything and this was the first time I was seeing her in close to six years; not that I lacked anything in her absence but I craved her presence, the intimacies of growing into a woman were empty without my mother being there. I felt doubly robbed, my father was long gone and I could barely remember what he looked like, my Mother I held on to like a blindfolded man to the memory of light.

The desperation of cold air howling was my second introduction, as a child with silly dreams of snow, I never for once deduced that it would have to be cold, and I never knew it could get this cold.

“It’s 12 Degrees outside babes” she said as if she could hear my thought process “I brought you a jacket”.
My body was dwarfed by what she called a jacket, it seemed to subdue my essence and reduced my walk to a tilting forwards instead of my usual sure steps.

Everyone here had cars, which was uncommon back home; we had a car, well, my Pappy had one, but by our country’s standards, he was comfortable resource wise. Watching the snow fall lulled me into a trance, I had never seen anything more beautiful, more tranquil, more purposeful than the tiny flakes that constantly required the slapping of the windshield that covered the streets. This sight, would become my new home feeling, winter became my favorite season despite the temperature, I would long for snow as I had once longed for my mother. 

Finding my way back to me: #1.