When the Bubble Has Burst

1

A week had passed since that fateful day on the train, and I found myself waking up in my parents' cozy guest bedroom. The room still held remnants of my childhood, with posters of my favorite bands and a well-worn teddy bear sitting on the shelf. It was a place of refuge, a sanctuary where I felt safe. And because my parents kept my teenage paraphernalia, it seemed as if this was an oasis kept just for me...as I'm sure it was.

I stretched and let out a deep sigh, the numbness that had enveloped me this entire week gradually dissipating. I gazed at the sunlight streaming in through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. It was a new day, and I couldn't help but reflect we on the events that had transpired as I found myself doing every morning since my near death experience. As if my conscience was reminding me that yes I was alive, but I almost wasn't.

As I slowly got out of bed, I couldn't ignore the fact that I was here, in my parents' home, where I felt the safest. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of comfort that I desperately needed. This room had once been my haven, where I had spent countless nights dreaming of the future. Of being exactly the age that I am. Never would I have guessed that I'd be held at gunpoint. Never would I have guessed that I'd be so close to death at such a young age.

Never did  I think 24 was a young age.

My mother, who I was convinced never slept, knocked gently on the door at 5:30 am. She entered with a warm smile, her presence instantly soothing. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said softly. "Breakfast is ready whenever you're up."

I managed a weak smile and whispered my thanks, my voice still carrying the weight of the recent trauma. As my mom closed the door behind her, I couldn't help but cry happy tears. As soon as the scent of breakfast hit my nose, memories of my dad's breakfasts flooded my mind, and I realized just how much I had missed them since moving out. In that moment, it felt like a miracle to be alive, to savor the taste of his delicious meals once more.

"Why is he even awake?" I thought. Like me, he was not a morning person.

Did he perhaps wake up early for me to provide breakfast? Tears welled in my eyes for a second time as I made my way to the kitchen, I knew that something fundamental had shifted within me. The incident on the train had shaken me to my core, but it had also ignited a newfound appreciation for life's simple joys.

There, at the table, sat my parents, their faces radiant with love and concern. The aroma of cream of wheat and powder bun with egg salad and cheese on top filled the air.  A glass of freshly squeezed orange juice awaited me.

I took a seat, my heart overflowing with gratitude. "I love you both," I said, my voice quivering. "I feel like I've been given a second chance at life."

They exchanged knowing glances, understanding the depth of my emotions. Being black in America was not something that came easy to my parents, so near death experiences unfortunately was not something they were a stranger to. My dad nodded and replied, "We're just glad you're safe, Amani."

After breakfast, my father offered to drive me to work. During the ride, he gently broached the subject of my return, expressing his concerns about my well-being. He offered to support me financially, assuring me that I could take all the time I needed to heal.

I appreciated his concern but assured him that I felt better. Still, the thought of returning to my empty apartment filled me with anxiety. I didn't want to tell him about that, though. I knew he'd enforce his parental right to ground me. Even at the age of 24 I felt I had to take a time out when my parents instructed me too. But in my reassurance to my father that I'm reading to go back, he believed me. Although, he still worried. He suggested paying for an Uber to ensure my safety during the daily commute. Despite my reluctance, he refused to accept any repayment, emphasizing that my safety was paramount.

As I stepped out of the car and walked toward the office building, I carried a newfound determination with me. I wanted to change my life, to create a safer and more fulfilling future. I wanted to be able to afford a car and a new apartment in a safer area. The only way to achieve that was by making more money. The incident on the train had shaken me to my core, and I realized that life was too fragile to postpone my dreams, to live small.

Coincidentally, my company was urgently hiring for a Customer Experience supervisor and manager role. It was an opportunity that aligned perfectly with my aspirations. I reached my desk, and without overthinking it, I composed a promotion proposal email to my manager, detailing my qualifications and my willingness to take on additional responsibilities.

Sitting back in my built-for-comfort office chair, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. I didn't want to be another cog in the wheel. I didn't want to play small. I wanted to be an owner.  I knew though that I needed to take it one step at a time. I reflected on my ten years of customer service experience, the extensive leadership training I had undergone in my youth, and the past six months of juggling managerial tasks alongside my regular duties. This promotion wasn't just a desire; it was a logical step forward. I only needed to realized I was worthy and that I was at that point. Prior to this day I'd figured that I was too young to aspire for roles like supervisor or manager...let alone CEO which was my dream since I graduated high school. I wanted to be a CEO with part ownership in whatever company I managed to scale.

Hours passed, and I continued my work, my mind occupied with thoughts of the future. A raise would not only improve my quality of life but also offer the stability and security I yearned for. The smile on my face grew as I envisioned all the wonderful possibilities this opportunity could bring. I'd always been terrified of driving, especially since almost every Uber driver I had had comments about the horrible LA drivers. The very many car accidents my high school boyfriend got us in created a deep fear of being behind the wheel. Interestingly enough, he was the one to teach me how to drive.

I remember him putting me in front of the wheel during one of our late night dates,  he wanted to be the one to teach me to drive to he allowed me to drive -as slow as a 103 year old woman - down the main streets of my neighborhood at 2 in the morning. I felt so free, so loved, and so young. It was almost cinematic.

My manager's footsteps snapped me out of my daydream. He approached me in acknowledgement of the email I had sent earlier. He admitted that he would have suggested I apply for the role if he had known about my newfound ambition. I assured him that this was a recent decision, prompted by a profound shift in perspective. "There was something about realizing that my time was up that made ve realize that if I ever got the chance again, I'd throw my heart over the bar and give my all to my job -or really, my life and I'd make sure that me and everyone around me has an amazing experience on this planet we call earth and in this thing we call life. And in this moment, what that means is applying my 10 year of customer experience and my 6 years of leadership training to this company."

I realized in this moment that there was no turning back, I'd spoken aloud what u truly wanted and something deep within me claim it. I knew that by expressing this to my manager, 8 would me changing the trajectory or my entire life. I explained how urgent this change was for me and what I know I would be able to do to contribute to the success of the customer experience team and the company as a whole.

When I finished, he looked at me as if I were someone he'd never seen. I could have sworn I saw a tear in his eye. He thanked me for my vulnerability and left to discuss the matter with HR, leaving me to contemplate the significance of this moment.

Sitting in silence, I felt a wave of empowerment wash over me. No longer would I shy away from pursuing my dreams or be content with the status quo. Life was too precious, too uncertain to let opportunities pass me by.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I continued my work, determined to seize the future that lay before me, filled with hope and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.