Steps Forward

Aug 26 6:22 am

It’s the small things. I woke up fully expecting my usual bed, in my old home, but the air was fresher and the bed was softer. It was not the bed I had spent years getting used to, my grandmother's spare bed, in a room with air conditioning.

On August 25th, 2016, at 3 AM I boarded seat 23C on an Airbus A320. The plane had rows of six seats with a hall in the middle. It was probably not the normal model, since my row was toward the end of the craft and the maps I could find place it more towards the middle. It was a four hour flight from the Dominican Republic, to Boston Massachusetts. I moved looking for better prospects.

Unfortunately, the country where I've spent most of my life isn't the best place for me to thrive. On most days I was too busy worrying how I'd get stabbed over a cheap cell phone and a fist of cash. Or maybe get run over by a motorcycle speeding through the wrong direction of a one way street (and sometimes they use the sidewalks as shortcuts). Or maybe stopped by the police because they're low on cash and they thought I looked fairly similar to a ceramic pig. Or maybe someone would get bothered over me "not sharing" what my ethnicity or country of origin is, because apparently I don't look or talk "Dominican Enough" to justify calling myself Dominican.

The first thing I mentioned when I exited the Logan International Airport building, was how I remembered the smell here. My uncle (jokingly?) said the air smelled like jet fuel. It didn't smell like much to me, and that's what I found weird. The air was MUCH cleaner. None of the moving vehicles where farting visible emissions. I'd later find out the streets aren't filled with trash (they are pretty clean, in fact). I bet the sewer system doesn't overflow when it rains.

The streets feel weird. Dominican Republic is always in the top two spots for the world's deadliest roadways (per the World Health Organization). Here in Boston everyone drives in their own lane instead of trying to cut everyone off, and they respect road signage. It will be refreshing to be able to step on crosswalks instead of them being the "stop on this" thing for cars (I'd usually cross behind the first row of cars). I probably should've taken some pictures before leaving, the chaos seemed too mundane to be noteworthy.

I think I can finally feel safe driving around, I almost never drove out of fear accidents. I could probably lease a new car, but buying an old car would be fun (even though repairs might be a hassle).

I can hear footsteps on my roof, the neighbors seem to be awake. I make my own noise when I walk on the creaky hardwood floor. Wood homes seem foreign to me. I'm used to homes being made out of concrete blocks.

Something I appreciate: I fit in much better now. I can speak either English or Spanish on the streets without getting weird looks. Nobody is trying to price gauge me or assume I'm cripplingly street-dumb due to my skin color. Everything still feels weird, people who where close to me are now far, and those who where far are now close. Also, I now have a realistic chance of doing stuff that used to be pipe dreams.

I guess today is the second day of the rest of my life.