Hey Waiter! Pardon me, Waitress!

A portion of- I don't know about that...

Living  alone is something I cherish so much, you get to spend alone time with the one person who's always by your side. The one person who's down for anything you wanna do and-Oh God it's 5:23 am! I would miss the  train if I don't get out of bed right now!

I bolt out of bed after seeing my alarm clock, my blanket falling to my feet and slowing my dash to the bathroom. As I said before, living alone is something I cherish so much, reason being, no one is there to judge you as you brush your teeth while pooping and checking your notifications on your phone. 

I finished getting dress and went into the kitchen to put last night's Chinese take out in the microwave to reheat. Then I walked to the corner of my apartment where my alter lay. Even though I may claim to always be by my side, there was also God. 

I stood infront of the only murti that I owned- Mother Saraswati, looking beautiful and radiant while sitting on her swan. Immediately I felt my heartbeat slow and come to peace and my mind cleared of all anxiousness.  I lit an incense and stuck it in the holder. Clasping my hands and closing my eyes, thanking her for everything she had given me to reach where I was, to give me strength to over come other obstacles and to guide me and protect me from all that is wrong. 

My eyes open after saying my morning prayer yet I still look at the altar with a feeling of longing. The jasmine scent wafting around in the air filling the entire room. This altar would have looked prettier with fresh hibiscus flowers to adorn the murti (idol) but those were something rare in these parts of New York. If only...

The beeping of the microwave, brought me out my trance and I got ready to leave- not before taking a final bow at Mother Saraswati.

Grabbing my book bag and the brown paper bag with the Chinese food inside I exited my apartment. I lived in the downstairs apartment of a two story building, while the landlady, Mrs. Marcie lived upstairs with her two dalmatians Spot and Dot. Clever! I know!

"Bye, Mrs. Marcie!" I called out to her as I closed the front door of the house, taking the stairs two at a time. I checked my watch and saw it was 6:25. That left me with five minutes to reach the train stop, and boy, was I going to make it.

Where I lived in Liberty, New York, There were many people like me. Some immigrants came from Guyana, some from Jamaica, and even some Trinidadians like myself! Thanks to this area, I never felt too homesick as there was just a little bit of the Caribbean in it, from the sweet Soca tunes playing by the corner to lively chatter and the familiar accents of lands not to far from here.

As I made my way to the train stop, I was greeted by different persons with whom my face had become very familiar.

"Morning Mia!" Nicolas the vegetable stall guy called out to me as he emptied potatoes onto the front shelves of his store. He was a rather elderly man and spent a decent amount of his time playing poker with the other men at the nearby barber shop than actually selling vegetables. He was famous for his endless amounts of brightly coloured tie dye shirts that contrasted with his dark skin.

"Morning Nick!" I called back, "Just running late as usual!"

"No surprise there!" He laughed in his washed-out Jamaican accent, showing his many years spent in this foreign country, "I'd start running by now if I were you!"

And yes sir; he was right, leaving me to run the rest of the way to the train stop. I raced up the stairs to the doors, breathless with metro card in hand, and, after struggling to swipe it ten times, the bar finally gave way for me to pass.

I walked up a couple more steps till I finally reached the platform--barely, mind you--where, before I could take one gasp of breath, I had to begin running again to ensure that I made it into the train before the doors closed.