I took Bart the other day. It’s the Bay Area’s version of the subway. It was my first time after coming back from traveling for a year. I used to ride the Bart as a daily part of my life, as I commuted to school and to work. It was an affordable and convenient way to get around. And it was as I remembered it.

The train was crowded, people stood shoulder to shoulder. The smell was a mix of garbage, urine, and the unknown. It was dirty. You’ll hear stories of people peeing on the seats or throwing up on the floor. All the seats are vinyl now, so the stains don’t seep in like it did with the old fabric. But no one’s really sure how often the seats are thoroughly disinfected. And the noise. It’s deafening. The rails screech and the tunnels echo back a shout to the moving train.

The woman who sat beside me started yelling about the man standing a few feet from us. She went on about how he was looking at her the wrong way. You either stared or avoided all eye contact, pretending you didn’t notice what was going on.

This is the reality of taking Bart. It’s not an ideal space, but I’m grateful for it. I appreciated the Bart for taking me where I had to go. It’s where I needed to be if I wanted to get from where I was to where I wanted to be.

It’s how I feel about where I am in life right now. I’ve been back home from my missions trip for a few months. I’m currently unemployed, living with my parents, uncertain of the future. It’s a rough ride. But it’s necessary. I can’t skip this part if I want to get to the next part. This transition space is part of the process. It’s where I need to be if I want to get from where I am to where I want to be.

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I wrote this several months ago. I was preparing to make a website I’ve only just started. I was waiting for everything to be perfect, but if I waited for perfection I’d never begin. So here’s to beginning the next part. I’ve moved out of my parents house, currently living in San Francisco, working part-time at a coffee shop, and taking Bart.