The Best Seat In Town

My last name is the reason why I usually end up sitting on one of the corners of the room at the back, especially if seats were alphabetically-arranged. It was usually beside an open door or a window.

Eventually, it became a habit. Throughout college, conferences, and the university here in Sweden, I would always find a seat by the window, so I always know what's happening outside.

It was my version of "never turn your back against the door."

Seeing people's faces and emotions passing just outside an open door or a glass window interested me. The idea of meeting people and going to other places to meet more people intrigued me. Although, that interest was quite a bit unusual since my parents were strict and I never officially traveled out of my city on my own until I was past the age of 25, and I did not really rebel against it. 

I did not care, I lived in the city. I did not mind staying in the city.

Then the environment changed and a lot more followed. The language, the culture, the way people interacted with me. It started to feel like I did not mean anything more than just a blue-collared employee trying to crawl my way out of an enclosed room with no doors. The only remaining window, slowly closing onto the latch. No sun shining in, shunned by vibrance of the real world...by the very life I used to live.

They knew nothing.

Nothing of me.

They did not share the seat where I spent most of my time solving problems on the table while looking through my windows, neither have they felt the subtle yet exhilirating wind the door lets into the room once they open. 

They knew only of ladders and silver spoons. Gold, if I may. 

They knew nothing.

Nothing of any other else's window or door seats. 

Nothing.

And that is all there really is.

Except for the fact that no matter where I end up and what I go through, I will not share this seat to anyone who does not matter. 

It has the best view of a life well-chosen, built by pain, strengthened by time, and a door that lets in a wisp of the fresh scent of freedom like flowers blooming in the early spring.

I've been down so long,