Prompt: An experience that has shaped my life.
As I pressed my head against the cold glass, I took a long hard look at the landscape ahead of me. The train was moving at hundreds of kilometers per minute, but in the horizon I could see the tops of ancient buildings peaking up above the freshly illuminated skyline. My heart caught in my throat as I became overwhelmed with nostalgia and several other emotions I couldn’t seem to place. There before me, was my city; the city of Sank Petersburg. It had been over a year since I had been back to the place of my birth, the place I learned to say my first word and developed all of my morals. The image of the city made something in my heart click into place, like everything in my beautifully messed up life made sense.
As I stepped off the train, weaved my way through the station, and took my first steps on the winding cobblestone streets of my youth, old memories flooded through me being the way passion flows through a teenager falling in love for the very first time. I was breathless and in awe. I was born and lived in this city until I was 13, when I had to leave it all and move to America. As we trekked deeper into the central part of town, I began to see myself in every spec, in every detail of the ancient architecture. I saw my mother teaching me how to read for the first time, I felt that very same feeling I had when I got my fist kiss by the river Neva witch is right across from the Hermitage. I envisioned every moment from my first day of school up to the second that boarded the plane that was headed to Seattle. That is when my life changed. The mix of happiness for my memories and sadness for the realization for what I have left behind came together in a tornado of feeling that brought tears to my eyes.
Many underestimate the power of knowing where they came from. I would like to emphasize the importance of returning to your roots. Though the last five years of my life have been a terrible struggle,...