The Point

The misunderstandings between my mother and I run deep. Deep and wide and far. Like the Nile. We have a Nile of misunderstanding between us. I stand on one shore and she another. We can’t see each other, we shout but can’t hear each other. I think that’s common amongst mothers and daughters. The people in the train station couldn’t see the Nile as we sat near each other, my luggage in between us. But it was there, invisible, deep and wide. She doesn’t understand why I have to leave. It’s a combination of being the baby, wanting me near forever and also never having left home herself, so not really understanding why anyone would ever want to go anywhere different. She doesn’t get it and she never will. Regardless, there she sat with me, without me having to ask, waiting for my train to come and take me away. Even as she walked me to the escalators where I’d disappear and she kissed me on my cheek and said goodbye, I know she was wondering, “What’s the point? Why leave at all?” Trying with amazing effort to understand but failing.

My train pulled in like a snake with the speed of a bullet. I don’t think I’ve ever traveled by train before. At least not a train above ground. I had one large suitcase, a duffle bag, a backpack and a pillow. I was ready. For what, I don’t know, but I was ready. I could almost feel my nerves bubbling underneath my skin, but I was ready. I wasn’t even sad as I watched the Philadelphia skyline disappear behind me. I leaned my pillow against the window and tried to relax. I fell asleep as we passed through Delaware. About an hour and a half later we reached BWI in Baltimore and I felt my nerves wake up again. I got off on an outdoor platform, completely lost. I followed the nice gentleman that was sitting across from me on the train to the main entrance of the station. It was a cool, cloudy day. I could see my breath when I exhaled. I saw a young guy with red hair & a matching mustache pacing back and forth nearby. He was wearing Khakis and a long-sleeved green t-shirt. I approached him and smiled.
“Hi.” I said.
“Hi,” he responded, stretching out a hand, “I’m Griffith. And you’re…”
“Aja.”
“Nice to meet you. Right this way.”
He showed me to a van, where he loaded my things inside. Then we took off through the streets and highways of Baltimore. There was small talk. Mostly I just took in the sights and listened to John Legend coming through the speakers. When I heard his velvety voice singing “Wake Up Everybody” I felt as though I was right where I was supposed to be.
“You ever been to Maryland?” Griff asked.
“Well,” I explained, “I came to DC a few years ago for a protest march with my ex at the capitol, but I’ve never really…”
“Seen Maryland.” he finished for me.
“Yeah.”
We drove and drove until we weren’t in Baltimore anymore. Eventually we passed into a small town known as ‘Perryville’, with a cute little elementary school, sheriff’s office, town hall and everything.
“So, where are you hoping to go this year? Anywhere in particular?” Griff asked after a long spell of silence.
“Anywhere I’ve never been is fine with me.”
“I hear ya.” he laughed.

After about forty minutes we crossed a large bridge, onto a quaint road leading to what looked like a small village. We passed an old sign that read, ‘Perry Point’. The Chesapeake Bay was shining brilliantly nearby, while swarms of geese covered the snowy ground.

“This,” Griff explained, “is The Point.”

After a few minutes we pulled up outside of a building and Griff unloaded my luggage. A nearby group of people, also in green shirts and khakis waved & yelled, “Welcome to The Point!” Griff lead me inside a gymnasium and leaned my things against a wall. Then he left. I spent at least an hour in that gym filling out paperwork. Eventually I stopped reading things and just signed wherever it was asking me to. I may have signed my life away, I wouldn’t know. I was fitted for clothes. I had my picture taken for an ID card. Then I received my room key and a nice young guy named Brandon offered to show me to my room and carry my things. When I unlocked the door to my room I saw that I was the first of four to arrive. Brandon sat my things down by the bed I picked and I went to peek out of one of the windows. I could see the geese flooding the lawns down by the water, and the waves of the river moving peacefully, and the tiny boats docked faraway on the opposite shore. Brandon moved behind me. I had forgotten he was there.

“Where can I go running around here?” I asked.
“I run down by the water. It’s nice down there. I can show you around if you want.”
“Okay.” I said.

Brandon took me on a tour of the dorm building first, before heading out onto the campus. There were 240 of us coming in. From as far away as Hawaii and the US Virgin Islands. I think in the last 24 hours I’ve met people from at least 19 different states. I’m reminded of how diverse America is. We are the only country in the world with individual states. And our states are like small countries of their own. And as I meet all of these people I hear different accents. I hear different stories. I’m hearing about things I’ve never heard of. And it reminds me of how big the world is. I’m not sure if my mom could ever really understand my need to be elsewhere. To meet people from far corners of the country. To do something worth while. She could probably never understand how amazingly peaceful it feels to stand on the bank of the Chesapeake Bay in winter time as the sun sets. This is where a journey begins. This is my new home away from home. This, as the inhabitants affectionately call it, is The Point.