The rain drizzles harmlessly down the windows of the New York-bound train I have just stepped on. I heave my bag up onto a metal rack above an empty seat. Thoughts of my weekend at home flit through my mind as I watch the water whip off the windows and the train accelerates into a cloud of mist.

A little girl with bright pink bows tied ever so carefully into her hair sits next to her mom in a seat nearby. She is excitedly chattering about the various things she wants to do once they reached the city. I smile and remember a time when I was so carefree and when life wasn’t riddled with obligations and a list of to-dos. The 9-to-5 I am now hurtling towards seems less than appealing, compared to being a young girl with her parents to fund any adventure her heart desires.

My home will soon be gone, replaced by a house across the country. I have another place to sleep in Alabama and one more in Brooklyn. They are all places to rest my head, eat, and go about my daily activities. They are not, however, home like it once was.

The 20s are a difficult decade filled with finding out who you are, what you like to do, and eventually what you will accomplish in life. The 20s are an exciting time, but I can’t help feeling a little bit like someone threw me out into the middle of the ocean and told me to find my way home.

All of this change can be exciting and liberating, but it can also be scary. I don’t have the comfort of my childhood home anymore. I don’t have a familiar neighborhood to spend my time in. Actually, now that I think about it, I hardly have any time at all anymore. I remember when I wasn’t tied down by piles of work and hours of classes. I used to pick daisies in the softball field, run around the yard with my dog and brother making up ridiculous games, and laugh until my stomach hurt. I still laugh and have fun but it’s different when you're younger. My brother, who I once used to see every day, is now 2,000 miles away from me, I miss him. My childhood dog has passed on; I miss him too. Everything has changed.

I look out the window again and the clouds have cleared to reveal a picturesque sun-filled blue sky. I reflect on how even though things are different and scary. I have a lifetime ahead to shape my life into what I want it to be. Although my childhood is gone, my adulthood is ahead of me. The train screeches to a halt and the little girl pulls on her mother's arm exuberantly as she skips off of the train, I smile at her as I too step off the train, then walk the other way.