Home

I wake, look at the clock in the still strange room and the clock screams 4:00 AM in red lights. I hit the bathroom and stand at the window, staring out at the street, nothing moving in the darkness. I return to bed, close my eyes and unsuccessfully try to not think or say it - I want to go home. As I descend the stairs, Alison, the Boston College student wishes me good morning as I hold the door for her. We walk and share small talk until reaching the corner when we go in opposite directions. I want to go home. I drop in line with the rest of the commuters, walk down the steps of the Copley station, quickly scan my T card and walk to the platform. The sign says the next train will arrive in six minutes. I want to go home. I squeeze through the doors and find my way to the back of the car, packed like sardines, I'm tall so I can see across the sea of hats, hair, bald spots and heads. I see my reflection in the window at the far end of the car. I know the look in my eyes. I switch trains at the Park Street station and get lucky as the train is just ready to leave, I bound up the steps and find a seat. I lean my head against the window, I want to go home. I exit at the Quincy Center stop, stand on the platform and look out at the myriad of office buildings. I have been going through this routine for six weeks. This assignment seemed like a great opportunity, a couple months in Boston working at State Street Bank. It got old fast, I miss the routine with my wife and son now a thousand miles away. The daily phone calls are nice, but I want to go home. I scan my badge, nod at the security guard and setup in a meeting room. I talk to Patricia about her Ireland trip while grabbing some tea. I sit, waiting for the rest of the team to show up, I wonder about traveling to Ireland. I want to go home. The meeting spins up, I turn and stare out the window, watching a plane emerge from Logan not far away, it turns and quickly disappears. I want to go home. The day goes as usual as the anxiety escalates. As the clock shows 6:00, I am consumed with thoughts of home. People hurriedly leave, heading home to family whereas I stay sitting with nowhere to go, staring into space, unable to move, I want to go home. I return to the platform to reverse this mornings commute with the anxiety slowly escalating in my mind. I see a woman that reminds me of her, suddenly I am going home. I pull out my phone and make arrangements, telling work there is an emergency at home while it is really in my mind. A smile forms on my face, I jump on the train, full of energy, I am going home.