N O E L

I DISLIKE, LOATHE and hate crowded places more than I hated bugs.

Why do airports have to be so crowded? I love travelling but the crowd is a big turn off and the fact that I'm going through this crowd alone is making me want to chip a tooth in anger and my nerves aren't helping.

I hate my mum right now for leaving me to go through all this alone. When she told me about it a week ago, it didn't sound so bad. But the minute I started waiting for my plane ride to the announced, I realized it was a bad idea. I don't mind travelling alone, I enjoyed it. Sitting by the window, while flying second class and playing my games in silence were the perks.

The parts I don't like are the ones involving people, heavy luggage and lines.

I bend my head down, adjusting my dark sunglasses, holding on tightly to my suitcase and duffle bag before I start squeezing my way past people of different cultures, race and tribe – heading straight for the exit.

As my boots make it out the airport and people, I release a breath I've been holding in, then take in the air New York City has to offer… wasn't the most fresh and relaxing but it was new. I dramatically push my glasses up, so that they are perched up above my beanie, letting my eyes look around. I really can't believe I'm here. If I ever thought I'd be leaving California, I didn't think I'd be leaving it for NYC. Maybe somewhere in Africa, but not here. The city that never sleeps – I love my sleep.

I snap back to the present as my eyes move around people holding out papers, cardboards and even a clip board with names written on it. I know she's not here but I still search… a part of me hoping that she's here. She said; I'll try to come pick you up.

So much for trying.

I whip out my phone and ring her. She picks on the second ring. "Hi baby."

"Hi Mum," I shrug a shoulder to balance my duffle bag. "So, are you coming to pick me?"

I hear her gasp and I roll my eyes, knowing the direction this phone call is going. "You've landed?"

"Yes. Ten minutes ago."

"Oh dear," a little pause. "Baby, I can't make it. I lost track of time and I just put something in the oven, it's going to take about ten minutes. I really don't want it ruined."

My disappointment is momentarily replaced by surprised. "You cooked?!" I let out a short laugh. "Oh God, Mum you didn't have to."

My mum isn't exactly the kitchen cooking type. Or the kitchen type at all. Or even a cooking type. She'll rather not take a bath for two days than to lift a finger into making Mac and cheese.

I imagined her pouting as she replied. "I wanted to. Anyway, are you going to wait for me?"

"No." I rush out. I can't wait for her and have everyone look at my exhausted self in pity before going on their merry way. "I'll find my way myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Mother. I survived a plane ride; I can definitely survive a taxi."

"Okay baby, be careful. Look around very well and please don't get yourself kidnapped."

"Yes, Mum." I say ending the call with a light chuckle. 'Don't get yourself kidnapped' like it's going to be my choice if some bored soul tries to kidnap me. I'm not sure if she said that because she's a caring mum or because of the ransom money that would be demanded.

Both, I guess.

After securing my phone, I drag my things to a waiting taxi. "Are you going?" I ask the bearded taxi man, popping my head into the passenger seat window. He nods at me and I nod back then wait for him to come out and help me put my bags into the car.

He never did. After sending him an irritated frown, I pack my things in myself and get in after them, preferring to seat in the back seat squeezed with my luggage than at the front with the lazy taxi beard man. I told him the address and I finally let myself relax when the taxi starts moving.

I've been to NYC once for vacation and I enjoyed myself greatly. But that's the thing about Vacations, its brief and the new environment and places keep you fascinated and entertained until it's time to leave. Because somewhere in your mind, you know that you'll leave. Eventually, you'll be leaving the place so; you can help but enjoy it while you can. Now I'm here again and I'm not leaving anytime soon. I can't help but wonder if I'm going to like my stay here.

Can this city keep me entertained and fascinated for one year? Or more importantly, would it ever feel like home?

My mother and I fell into the shackles of debts after the death of my father. It was my dad supporting us all through until Cancer snatched him away – without permission, without warning. It's a miracle that we've survived two years without him. It feels like yesterday to me. But the calendars and my added inch in height say it's been two very quiet years.

We were thrown into confusion after dad died and looking back, I'm so proud of my mother for holding up pretty well. We made every waking decision together after dad died, including the ones that we regret. Everything led to us putting our house in California up for sale a month ago and is the reason why a Murphy family was moving into our house. My home.

I don't know if dad would be proud of us or turning in his grave with disappointment. We lost our home and furniture too. We only took highly important things and for a month now, we've been slowly moving our things here to New York. I think everything in that house is highly important and I just wish the Murphy's would cherish the things we left behind. I doubt that and it's sad for me.

When my maternal grandfather and the only grandfather I knew was alive, he and my mother – his daughter, weren't on good terms. Mum thought grandpa hated her for getting married without his consent and didn't want to see him for objecting to her happiness. But now that's he's dead, she's regretting her decisions, especially since he left his house to her. The house we were moving into. If not for my late grandpa, we'll probably be living in the streets or hotels till we're penniless.