A Sense of Belonging3 min read

The city often wakes up before I do. Birds singing salutations to the rising sun, the low hum of wheels caressing pavement, and the murmur of chatter from passerby’s float up through my window in the early morning. It’s 7 a.m. London is thriving, wide awake and full of life.
One red bus, two red busses, three…I count silently to myself as I stand at my stop waiting for my own bus to arrive. Impatience prickles at the back of my neck causing me to tap my feet and fiddle with my headphones. Pacing the length of the stop, I breathe in deeply. Smells of cigarette smoke, exhaust, and cool morning air assaults my senses. Letting the air out with a sigh, I am somewhat calmed.
The hulking red beast approaches slowly releasing a long hiss of air before stopping. My bus has finally arrived. A flash of my Oyster card, a jaunt up the steps, and I’m sat at the front of the top-deck. Leaning into my seat, I smile, taking in the sights around me.
Lurching forward, the bus moves with elegant ease through the congested, high fashion, and posh streets of Kensington to the close fit colorful buildings of Notting Hill. People in suits are clutching cups of coffee, in a speed-walking race. On one corner, a jogger keeps pace, waiting for the light to turn.
Moving through the neighborhood, storefronts and restaurants turn to symmetrical white houses, quiet and residential. A mother pushes a pram, lovingly speaking to the baby inside. Farther ahead, there is an elderly couple ambling along arm in arm. Behind them a small, curly-haired pup follows diligently.
Stop after stop sights and sounds of the city continue to change, before I know it I’m hopping off the bus in Paddington. Taking the long route to work, I walk along the canal watching the water reflect the clouds in the sky above.
Work is a blur of lit up computer screens, the clack-clack of typing keyboards, and polite chatter. Several “tea-times” later (coffee for me, as I cannot stand the stuff), I am back to the streets of London. Turning my face to the setting sun, I allow for my feet to take me where they will.
Entering the tube station, the arriving train blows warmed evening air across my body causing a slight shiver. I pack into the closest carriage with the bodies around me. Moving as one, we fill every remaining inch of space. It should be uncomfortable, but I find it cozy. Purposefully missing my stop, I decide to head further into the city. Reaching Westminster, I scramble off the train to the surface.
Tourists and Londoners alike greet me as I exit the station. Looking up, Big Ben’s clock face winks with every tick. I head towards the river, in the opposite direction of those around me.
Sitting on a lone bench, a small giggle escapes my lips and I smile.
I belong here.
We all belong here.