The train screeched against the track, coming to a sudden stop as the engine died down, the force jerking me forward. The light breeze from the open window swept through the cabin, strong enough to catch the edges of the pages, flipping them over with ease. The pages slowly tearing on the sides, a sign of how many times they’d been loved, a big coffee stain on the cover, and a signature of the author on the front page.
As I looked outside, the countryside had been staring back at me. Horses cantered up and down the fields. A dirt-covered farmer tramped frustratedly past the train.
Slowly, I rose from my chair, grabbed my belongings and made my way to the door. My mind was drowning in oceans of lost thoughts.
The unexpected beeping of the doors brought me out of my trance. Next to me, a little girl had been jumping up and down, bolting out the instant the door was opened. Racing her brother to be the first to get to their mother’s loving arms. I hesitated before I stepped out of the train myself. Part of me wanted to stay, in the steady rhythm I had grown attached to, up in the city full of chaos. I knew deep down, though, that this was where I had to be.
A fresh breeze brushed against my skin, carrying a scent of grass, with a mix of smoke from a nearby chimney fogging the area. The inaudible chatter of the crowd muffled the announcements, the hurried footsteps of passengers reverberated around me.
A one-way ticket wasn’t part of the plan when I booked the unforeseen trip; I never planned on coming back, but there I was, holding my bags in the middle of my hometown’s train station. Without a reason to go back to the loud, dirty, polluted city. Constantly getting pushed by people in the rush of crowded streets, it didn’t give me the same sense of happiness that the countryside did. I once made myself believe that I belonged there in a city of towering skyscrapers, endless lines, and relentless sounds.
By then, nostalgia had settled over me as I breathed in the crisp countryside air. I never thought I would ever feel this way about being back home.
Behind me the train had screeched back to life, slowly departing. That was when I knew I made the right decision.
The town where I once thrived in, had a warmth that no other place could bring me. The small pizzeria hadn’t changed over the years. As I walked past, I caught a glimpse of the chef busy at work, dough covered hands, tomato-stained overalls, and a spot of flour on his cheek, a deep frown making its way on his face. The smell of freshly baked pizzas tugged at my nose as I walked past.
Next to the pizzeria the bookshop, the faded wooden sign swaying softly to the rhythm of the wind. The creaking of the door rang the bell, welcoming me home. Signalling a new chapter had opened, a familiar yet distant one.