Happy

It’s been three months since I moved to New York.  It was the dead of winter three months ago and I hated my new home.  Three months ago I hated school and though I was doing the wrong thing by being here. It was three months ago that I looked everyday for a plane ticket home, looking at my schedule, and trying to find a way to get home, and be with the people who loved me.  It was two weeks ago when I realized i'm where i'm suppose to be.  I started my first bakeshop, and I’m learning how to make bread.  It defiantly isn’t what I want to do with my life, but it makes me happy.  I realized I was happy on the second day of my Hearth Breads and Rolls class.  I was standing there looking and a bin of flour I was about to mix into dough.  I placed my hand into the flour, grabbled a hand full, and sifted the white power through my fingers.  At that moment I thought to myself "this is where i'm suppose to be.  This is what makes me happy”.  It was only three months ago that I almost came home and made the biggest mistake of my life.  I never would have known what it feels like to be as happy as I am right now.  I am so lucky to have my family, being there for me everyday, telling me that I could do it, and they were proud of me, believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.  I’m proud of what I have done, getting though one of the worst winters in a decade, being away from home, and doing well in my classes. Now I know I can do anything,