This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its unique location you’ll be able to go to the hyperlink bellow:
https://www.browndailyherald.com/article/2025/10/window-giannoutsos
and if you wish to take away this text from our web site please contact us
I feel finest in transit.
There’s one thing satisfying about being on the whim of a prepare. Something nice about resting my head in opposition to the marginally clouded glass window, peering out on the horizon because it oscillates between metropolis skyscrapers and rolling grass fields, feeling as if I’m someplace between inside and out of doors. Something comforting and poignant about being sure by area for only a few fleeting moments, with a bunch of strangers who will most likely solely encounter one another as soon as.
I prefer to think about my life as a prepare trip, every distinct period marked by a cease.
_____________
My first cease was Ditmars Boulevard Station in Astoria, Queens—proper on the coronary heart of New York’s “Little Greece.” Though the residence was barely large enough to carry our younger household, it felt massive to me. During chaotic nightly dinners, I refused greens, my sister threw tantrums from her excessive chair, and my dad and mom tried to carry it collectively regardless of the exhaustion of two youngsters below six and one other on the way in which. Our time in Astoria had the identical power because the native station throughout commuter hours: cramped, noisy, and stuffed with hope suddenly. It was the place the place our journey started—the place my dad and mom first met and the place they departed from every morning in direction of the Big Apple to attempt to understand their imaginative and prescient of the American Dream.
The subsequent cease was South Norwalk Station in Connecticut. We upsized the home and kitchen desk so it was massive sufficient for the addition of my youngest sister, and discovered to get used to the slower, extra deliberate tempo of the realm. Life fell right into a quieter rhythm. The sounds of sirens and automotive horns have been changed by crickets and howling coyotes dwelling in our yard, and tantrums on the dinner desk morphed into nightly multiplication flash card periods that my mom insisted on. Like the SONO station, Connecticut felt regular, manageable, and arranged. It was so tight-knit that I appeared to know everybody in my small Fairfield County city. And I used to be okay with that.
This previous summer time, I ended at Athens Railway Station proper by my grandparents’ dwelling in Greece. Here, all bets have been off. I used to be the “American Girl” on the town. No one cared concerning the status of my college, my sense of vogue, or my five-year plan. The deafening sounds of cicadas and waves from the close by sea drowned out ideas that had adopted me for years. Instead of questioning if I used to be behind, or stressing about whether or not my extracurricular schedule was sufficient, I contemplated my household’s roots, imagining what my life would have been like had they stayed there, and spent my mornings on the sand enjoying backgammon with my grandpa as I basked in my temporary hiatus from actual life. It felt wild and free, virtually like a fever dream, as if the prepare had drifted into a brand new dimension. Greece wasn’t a cease on the way in which to wherever else, however a lapse in time the place I may merely breathe.
______________
My newest cease was on the one and solely Providence Station. Predictable settings, acquainted faces, and individuals who knew my title have been all a factor of the previous. I recall wanting up as I stood within the middle of the station for the primary time, eyes large and stuffed with uncertainty. There, I discovered a round window of sunshine instantly above me. Looking out, I noticed the sky and questioned how many individuals earlier than me—Brown college students, vacationers, or Providence residents—had achieved the identical. It was the primary time I’d inhabited an area the place I had no roots. No strong floor to hint my story again to. I used to be alone, with out my dad and mom to carry my hand and stroll me by way of each step, with out the acquainted tradition I’d at all times taken consolation in. Yet, for the primary time, I discovered myself in a spot I knew had the potential to really feel like my metropolis.
Within per week of settling in, I had created a routine for myself in Providence. Strangers from orientation turned acquaintances I explored campus with and now meet for dinner practically day-after-day. Our “spot” on the Ratty—proper subsequent to the pasta station—is a revolving door of various pals every night time, all of us stopping on our approach to and from numerous membership conferences, lessons, and sports activities practices.
As I write this, I’m in transit but once more. It’s late at night time, and I’m getting back from the Harvard-Brown soccer recreation, doing what I at all times do after I discover myself on trains: reflecting. I’m sitting instantly throughout from three strangers I do not know if I’ll communicate to but. I ponder what their story is and the way, like me, they occurred to search out themselves on the ten p.m. prepare from Back Bay to Providence Station on a Saturday night time. I ponder if they’re touring collectively, or in the event that they merely occurred to sit down subsequent to one another. I ponder who or what they’re going dwelling to, or if they’re even going dwelling in any respect. I ponder in the event that they, too, are questioning about me.
Maybe they see my life’s “stops” written throughout me. Maybe they discover the evil-eye necklace from my month in Greece that I now put on round my neck as proof of my heritage and my household’s superstitions. Maybe they see my highschool’s emblem on the again of my telephone case (I preserve delaying changing it because it jogs my memory of dwelling). Maybe in the event that they take heed to my voice, they may discover that the way in which I say sure phrases; ‘bowl,’ as an illustration, has a barely detectable tinge of a New York accent—a relic of my Astoria upbringing.
_______________
As Family Weekend approaches, and many people put together for the joys of touring and reuniting, we must always keep in mind that a spot is rarely actually left behind. We maintain onto bits and items picked up alongside the way in which at each cease we’ve gotten off at.
While all of us occur to search out ourselves right here collectively, we must always keep in mind that we’re at all times, in a technique or one other, touring. Always in movement. And that makes the occasions we do occur to search out ourselves on the similar cease all of the extra particular. For now, there’s nothing we will do however sit again as if in a prepare automotive, taking pleasure within the ever-shifting surroundings earlier than us, figuring out that essentially the most thrilling stops lie forward.
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its unique location you’ll be able to go to the hyperlink bellow:
https://www.browndailyherald.com/article/2025/10/window-giannoutsos
and if you wish to take away this text from our web site please contact us
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its authentic location you…
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its unique location you…
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its unique location you…
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its authentic location you…
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its unique location you…
This web page was created programmatically, to learn the article in its authentic location you'll…