Interior Monologue

We arrived in 1905. Crowds of people left the boat, thunderous voices roared as we walked. We were unaware of where we were or where we were heading. As I looked towards her I saw how afraid she was and held her hand. We followed the orders that were being shouted at us and made our way to the first doctor. As he examined us, I could not help but wonder how many of us would have to make the journey back. How many of us had sought asylum, a better life, a new sense of safety, home, and hope. As the hours ticked by, people came and went, some elated, others simply accepting of the new life they would soon have to build for themselves and their family. Soon enough, it was almost dusk. As the sun set, groups of people started gathering in different
I will never forget holding her and letting my mind wander, listing all the new opportunities I was now able to have. Outside, only the moon shone. A sort of emptiness was cast within the room. Suddenly, in the midst of this darkness a sweet, faint tune started spreading. Surprised, I woke her up, and we made our way across the room, curiosity taking ahold of us. There, we stood in awe. A man sitting down on a striped couch was playing the accordion! He had brought his instrument all the way across the ocean. As I stood there, I started laughing, shocked by the absurdity of the situation. In the midst of the confusion, I had forgotten just how comforting music could be. She smiled and I took her hand. I took her hand, and we started dancing. People gathered around us to watch, dozens of men stared mindlessly, letting the peaceful music and our joyful dancing wash over them. We danced, forgetting about the people surrounding us. We danced, forgetting what home had been. We danced, only seeking to discover the endless possibilities this new land could have for us. We danced until we were no longer ourselves but rather stronger, better, happier