It took you the entire length of the exceedingly awkward car ride to finally be able to look at your mother. Your stomach was full of anxiety. You could almost imagine the vibrantly colored butterflies turning into deranged bats in your abdomen, as you pulled into the parking lot. But this feeling was not because of her, it was about what you were finally going to do. She looked back at you with her classic, unreadable stone expression. It had always been difficult for you to guess what she was thinking in that vast, adult head of hers, and quite often found yourself making a guessing game of it. But now was not the time for games. She only brushed her radiantly red hair out of her eyes before asking, "Are, are you ready?" You nod your head, joining it with a timid "Ready as I'll ever be," before moving to exit the sun faded car. You reached down to unbuckle yourself from the claustrophobic confines of the shoulder belt. The plastic of the buckle was still warm from having been sitting out in the searing heat for the majority of the day.
             No one had ever really explained to you what it would be like, stepping into this new environment. Everybody apparently assumed that something like this was common knowledge, but what you saw was nothing like your expectations. You could feel the slipping scenery as you had driven past the different levels of life. Now that you stepped one foot out in front of another, distancing yourself from your car, everything became so much more real. The drastic difference in life, was something you had not been exposed to since you were younger. The crusty, sun baked paint was always pealing from every one of the old decrypted houses staggered up an down the street. A place where you had learned that it was dangerous to be wandering outside your secure house after the retched sun goes down. What some people called slum, but you called home. All of that was before you were deliberately forced to move away from your the way of life you had become so accustom to while growing up. The gripping nostalgia twinges deep in your stomach, pushing against your nerves, demanding space amongst the rampaging bats. You looked around hungrily at my new surroundings. This was the closest you had been to your past life in longer than you wanted to admit.
             Your mother casually catches up to you and brush up against her, then continue on to the short distance you had left to venture before greeting the dark sliding doors. As you approached, you quickly checked your own reflection in the finely tinted glass. You suddenly felt self conscious, knowing that, in only moments, you would have to take a picture that may stay with you for a excruciatingly long time. Taking that into consideration, you had dressed up a little more. What would of normally been your waves of faded red curls was currently flat ironed into a fiery waterfall. You deemed that to be most suitable.
             You took time to look at the person reflected beside yourself, your mother. She was so different from you, yet the two were unmistakably related. She wore white capris that were probably raised passed her stomach, and an almost deafening yellow blouse that practically screamed for attention. You weren't sure what exactly my cloths were screaming for, but it sure as heck was not the same.
            Heavy black rings of paint rimmed the eyes that stared back sat you. Your favorite hard rock band shirt floated down at your waist, blending perfectly into the black background of your jeans. You concluded that you probably looked unapproachable at best, but you put on a smile, trying to balance out your looks and your personality. You honestly didn't care for the opinions of other people. You dressed for you and no one else. But today was different. Coming here was was like a challenge of your social ability. This was a test leading you further into adulthood. So you pushed the rust tinted hair out from your eyes, finally satisfied with your own self evaluation, and put on your game face.
           The large panels that stood as your momentary mirrors glided back against the walls, revealing the interior. You stepped over the threshold that separated he outside world from the strangely cultured world of its own. You smiled, sensing a metaphor the tip of your toes. Your anxiety seemed to be fading away with every step you took, as if you were leaving that tortured teenager at the door. Something about you had changed since you left the comforts of your house that morning. Whether it was the reassuring familiarity of the surroundings, or just the idea of being so close to independence, you weren't sure. All you knew was that opportunity at a new identity was dangling itself in front of your face, and you would of been a fool not to grab at it.