From Within Trilogy: Book of Perdition

Chapter Two: Leaving Home

The sky was still dark in the early morning hours as I placed the rest of my things into the trunk of my new silver BMW sedan that I had gotten as my 2016 graduation gift. Scattered dark gray clouds hovered above the navy blue sky as the sun's orange arms began to stretch beneath it. Its vibrant colors reflected off the ocean waters as if to be admiring itself. I could hear the dull roar of gentle waves splashing against the shoreline and a distance dinging of a rocking buoy. The oceanside birds squawked, communicating the low tide's ample food supply was ripe for the taking. A soft, cool August sea breeze blew quietly through the empty neighborhood, spreading dry beach sand across the pavement.

My father, Ron, leaned back against the driver's side of the car with his hands tucked under his arms, resting them above his slightly round belly. His tall, robust body pushed down on the car tires, making them look low on air. His summer tan still in full color, which always seemed to carry over into the fall months. His black hair had lines of grays mixed in it that glimmered off the front yard spotlight. He was waiting as patiently as he could for the final goodbye.

For us, it felt like it was yesterday that I was just a little girl burying my bare feet beneath the warmth of the soft sand in our yard, feeling its rough granules rub against my skin and building magical sandcastles. Now here I was, eighteen years old and leaving the serenity of our home, our town, and headed for college in a big city.

I grew up in the small town of Groton Long Point, Connecticut, with a population of about 1700. Groton Long Point, a.k.a GLP, was mainly a seasonal hangout for families in the summer. However, we were one of the few who stayed year-round. Its seasonal changes brought a unique beauty to each one. The sun's colorful brilliance reached across the sky like a rainbow blanket casting hues of pink and orange in the Spring and Summer months. Rainy days harnessed mother nature's wrath in a spectacular light show of thunderstorms and supplied the water needed to breathe life back into the land. Summer was the liveliest as crowds gathered to the beaches partaking in all the festivities. Fall and Winter thinned out GLP's townies from the vacationers bringing in the brisk crispy air that soothed summer's oppressive conditions. Winter's cold lonely touch left a needing silence of reprieve from the tourists, but the sky never stopped performing. It would fill with grayish clouds refracting the sunlight into floating prism halos that burst out glittering soft snowflakes decorating every surface into a blank canvas.

The ocean's boisterous waves sang a different tune depending on the weather. Its summer voice was mainly calming with hints of fury during storms, but the thickening ice would sometimes quiet its roar in the winter. It was as if to be building up the strength readying to scream once a thaw came about, releasing its desire to be wild and free. The ocean was my home, along with the simplicity of small-town, but I desired more. So, I applied to NYU, and when I got accepted, I knew it was my chance to follow that desire.

Being raised in this small, relaxed town, I found myself wanting to experience a different setting, and New York was the best solution for a few good reasons. One, in GLP, there was not much to do here unless going to the next town over, especially in the off-seasons. We all knew one another here, and meeting people my age was tricky. Two, NYU was only a three-hour drive from GLP, allowing an easy return trip home for school breaks, or to see my Dad, or if I got too homesick. Lastly, it was a hub full of infinite possibilities and the best place to grow, learn, and achieve journalistic dreams. New York City would be an adventure, a change of pace, and uncharted territory for me to explore.

I peered into the trunk of the car, mentally checking off all the belongings tucked inside it, making sure all I needed was there. I hesitated for a moment before shutting the trunk tightly. The car jerked as I closed it. I stood back, looking at the house I grew up in one last time. The white beach-styled home sat perfectly by itself on about an acre of land. It was a rare property to find in our town, and luckily it had been in my Dad's family for generations before all the new developments. Our front yard was green, primarily grass that sparkled with several small spots of bleached, colored dirt. The bushes surrounding the front stairs showed off their recently bloomed pink hibiscus flowers. The gray stone wall supporting the newly planted vegetation was barely visible as it peeked out from behind the summer growth.