When I Get Where I'm Going

When I Get Where I'm Going

The hustle and bustle of the people in New York City never stopped. To the dwellers, this magnificent yet scrungy city was normal, but to Rosalie Shale, this bizarre city was anything but normal.

Questions

Rosalie was always curious about the world. When she was a little girl, around the age of 5, she became obsessed with asking her parents questions. Her parents thought it got a little tedious and irritating, mostly because they were questions they couldn't answer. On the other hand, they were very proud of her curiosity and hunger for knowledge.

Stephanie Shale had a favorite question, definitely one that will never be answered: "Mommy? I know my Sunday School teacher told us God created us and and every other thing on this planet, but why are we here? Why is it that we have houses and cars and batteries and phones? Why is it that we have tennis and soccer and everything else?! Mommy, I don't understand it."

The very night after her tiny and precious girl had asked her such a deep question, Stephanie tossed and turned, not able to get the squeaky voice out of her head. She remembered in detail, raising one eyebrow slowly and being completely speechless. Rosalie's face was squished up in utter perplexity. The strong words kept running through her head, why are we here? The powerful words took ahold of her and forced her look at life in a whole new perspective.

The next morning, Stephanie fixed Rosalie's favorite breakfast, fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, spangled with strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries, and topped with sweet whipped cream. When she served the out-of-the-ordinary, mouth-watering meal, she wrapped her precious angel in her arms. To Rosalie, the hug was warm and comforting, but oddly firm.

Rosalie did none other than ask a question. "Why did you fix me this huge breakfast and why are you hugging me Mommy?"

Stephanie only said, "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you, too!" Rosalie smiled crookedly.

Cliques

After years upon years of questions, Rosalie ended up living in New York City working at a BARNES&NOBLE. She knew this wasn't what she wanted to do with her life, but at 25, she had a long way to go.

On her way to work, Rosalie loved watching the irrevocable people of NYC. She learned there were cliques, she watched them closely and studied them. It was just like high school, all the different groups, keeping their distance from each other.

There were the Business Men and Women, who wore the same suit everyday, who drank STARBUCKS coffee every morning, and took the same route to work. Rosalie despised the hyper flavor of coffee and every week she tried changing up her way to work.

There were the Richies, who didn't earn their immense fortune, but recieved it from their ancestors. They strutted on only the expensive shopping streets, the women richies strutted in their high heels with their spoiled rotten, poof-balls considered poodles, clutching their PRADA purses. Rosalie was definitely not rich and would not be caught dead wearing thousand-dollar clothing. She also was disgusted to the creatures shaved to look like they were wearing clothes and shoes...pampered poodles.

There were the Streeties, consisting of younger adults living off of pocket money and working street vendors or hustling people out on the streets. They basically lived in Central Park. Obviously Rosalie had a steady job, steady income, and lived in an apartment.

There were the Gangsters, who lived in the horrid, chilling neighborhoods of NYC. Shootings, large fights, murders, and suicides all occured in that wretched area. Rosalie was quite scared of that domain, she tried hard to stay as far away as possible from them.

There were the Homeless, who begged at your feet, who scrounged in the garbage, who were too pathetic to find a job. They were grungy, scruffy, foul-smelling tramps. Rosalie felt terrible for them, but knew they did it to themselves. She never gave money unless they were working for it. She knew some would just use the money to help themselves to drugs, cigarettes, or alchohol instead of helping themselves to food, clothes, and a real home. One unusual soul had gathered a shopping cart, buckets, trash cans, and two wooden sticks. He set it up like a drum set in the grass next to the sidewalk. He played some surprisingly entertaining beats so she gave him 5 dollars hoping her charity wouldn't go toward that awful dope.

And last but not least, there were the Teen Hang-Outs. Bottom line: teenagers without lives who hung out in small groups of no more than 6, they leaned against buildings, skateboarded in Central Park, gathered around movie theaters and huge malls like lions around their dead prey. The boys made-out with their so-called girlfriends. They all smoked just to be cool and pulled stupid stunts and pranks to be popular. Rosalie almost understood them, but then again she didn't. She knew some of them had bad lives at home; she never acted like that as a teen, she hung out, but not in the NY style.

All in all, Rosalie fit in with none of these cliques. It was up to her to find her life's path, but she was having trouble in this crazed home called NYC. She felt lost, like she was drowning in a sea of hope, the hope kept crashing waves down upon her as she struggled stay above. She wanted to spread her wings and fly, but how?

Answers

Rosalie woke up smiling to the stream of sunlight shining through her window. She had finally gotten enough sleep to not hit the snooze button over and over again. Rosalie was in such a bliss mood, so without thinking twice she grabbed a quick healthy yogurt and fruit breakfast, threw on some fitness clothes, pulled her tangled, thick hair back into a ponytail, picked up her iPod, armband, and headphones and flew out the door in a flash.

Rosalie had never actually gone for a run in Central Park. She did go to the gym occasionally, but she wasn't into fitness very much. Rosalie stretched a little bit while observing the early-birds walking dogs, running, biking, having a street vendor breakfast, or just relaxing with a book. Even though she could see Central Park out her window, she had never seen it like this before. It was as if a big magnifying glass was placed over the Park. There were so many details she had never noticed. The squirrels came up to you, even if they had rabies, they had been fed by tourists so often that they expected to be fed by you! Rosalie loved it.

The iPod turned on and the song automatically went to Rosalie's all-time favorite, This Love sung by Maroon 5. She started running, pacing herself to the beat of the song.

I was so high I did not recognize
The fire burning in her eyes...

Rosalie hummed along in her head, keeping her vision over as much ground as she could cover. The soft spring breeze wrapped around her giving her goosebumps on her arms. She ran on the side of the reservoir; the shimmery water sparkled and glittered beautifully in the sun. Soon she came across a small playground where a few kids climbed, swung, and slid while laughing gleefully. The trees were over-grown with foliage, most also had beautiful blossoms. The flamboyant flowers scattered the area. The blades of grass danced in the breeze.

Rosalie passed another runner who was sweating profusively, but he still smiled and waved. Rosalie smiled and nodded politely back. She continued, feeling better and better with each strong step. Soon her adrenaline was pumping, she had never felt better. She sped up sensing the increase of wonderful new pain in her legs. The muscles were growing stronger, not a lot, but they definitely were growing. This time when she passed a young runner, she waved first. The other runner had blonde hair in a ponytail sticking out the top of a visor. She flashed a bright, white grin. Rosalie grinned back, her smile covering her whole face.

Wow, she thought, people are actually noticing me!