3:00 a.m. Finished working on writing tasks. Began debating whether to go to sleep now or move to NYC in a couple of hours.

3:30 a.m. Read Ms. C’s latest email for the fifth time since yesterday. I then reviewed commuter bus and VRE schedules. And, I decided to get on the 5:29 a.m. VRE train to catch the bus going from Arlington to NYC at 7:30 a.m.

4:51 a.m. Purchased my bus ticket. My bags were packed from the day before, so I just had to add items from the bathroom, plus repack my backpack.

5:00 a.m. Quietly brought my four bags downstairs and chilled on the front porch to wait for the Lyft driver.

5:01 a.m. I ended up cancelling my first Lyft reservation, because the driver was taking too long.

5:05 a.m. A couple staying at my aunt’s home walks out of the front door. We greet each other with a “Good morning.” I watch them pack their purses and backpacks in their car.

5:08 a.m. I immediately booked another Lyft reservation. That driver was going to take longer to get to me, so I needed to cancel that reservation as well.

5:10 a.m. Now, I had 19 minutes to make it to the station and debated opting out of going to NYC, as I’d miss the 5:29 a.m. VRE train, and therefore wouldn’t make it to the 7:30 a.m. bus departure.

Because I’ve never chilled on the front porch at 5:00 a.m., I didn’t know this was the time the aforementioned couple left for work. As they’re packing their car, I debated asking them for a ride. When I realized I didn’t have a choice, I asked if they wouldn’t mind giving me a ride to the VRE station, because Lyft wasn’t working out for me. They told me to get in the car!

Once my bags were quickly packed in the trunk, we all got in the car. When the ignition was turned on, “G-d’s Grace” began playing. On one hand, I thought this was odd. (In a good way.) On the other hand, I was trying to keep from crying, because the lyrics were pulling on my heartstrings. When I asked this couple if they were Christians, they happily noted, “Yes!”

5:16 a.m. Arrived at the local VRE station in time, and I thanked the couple several times. I then walked over to the outdoor waiting area with my bags. And, while waiting on the train, I purchased a single-ride train ticket via the VRE app.

5:29 a.m. Boarded the VRE. I initially had difficulty climbing the steep steps with my carry-on, plus my three other bags. A beige-skinned man who’d be constructed as an “asian” sees me struggling. He picks up my heavy carry-on with ease and brings it onto the deck. I was relieved and thanked him.

6:06 a.m. In my mind, I thought to ask the conductor—a beige-skinned man who’d be constructed as a “white”—if he could help me with my bags. Within a few seconds, the conductor approaches me, looks at my bags and asks if I’d need help getting off the train. I said, “YES!” He smiled and asked for my stop. I noted it’s the next stop. He confirmed he’d help me. Again, I was relieved.

6:14 a.m. Got off the Alexandria stop with the conductor’s assistance. There was no one at this stop.

6:20 a.m. Walked a few blocks to get to the King Street-Old Town metro station. There, I’d wait to get on the Blue Line towards Downtown Largo to get off at the Rosslyn Station. Around this time, the anxiety began settling in, especially as I’ve never stayed in a homeless shelter with 10-plus women at a time. Earlier in the week, I researched NYC-based intake shelters. (I was warned to avoid the Bronx intake shelter, so I called the Brooklyn-based shelter to ask a few questions.) I also communicated with a YouTube content creator who was vlogging from a shelter. And, I familiarized myself with the realities of “sticky fingers” plus the potential for violence at women-only shelters. Regardless of what awaited me, I decided to move forward.

6:26 a.m. Boarded the Blue Line from the upper level.

6:32 a.m. Received an SMS from Ms. C while I’m on the Blue Line. She hadn’t heard from me since the last email I sent her, where I detailed my plan to head over to an NYC-based shelter. And so, she wanted to see how I was doing.

6:46 a.m. As I’m typing a response to Ms. C, I receive a Venmo notification stating she paid me $3,000.

So, within minutes, I went from having $100.49 in my account to $3K.

My eyes widened in shock. I had to hold in my tears, because I don’t like crying in front of humans, especially on an early morning train ride. As soon as I got off my stop (Rosslyn Station), I started weeping.

(Read “Moving Forward: Day 73” to understand why I was emotional.)

6:48 a.m. From the Rosslyn Station, I placed a quick call to Ms. C. I wasn’t able to communicate well, because I was weeping. Ms. C told me, “You can’t be crying this early in the morning,” which made me laugh. Post-call, I entered a fast-food restaurant nearby to grab breakfast à la take-out. Then, I headed to the bus stop.

7:15 a.m. Arrived at the bus stop 15 minutes early. I called Ms. C once more, as I could now speak without weeping in between words. I explained why her unexpected generosity made me cry. In short, I felt like my life was sinking deeper into a crappy future. (It’s been a humiliating journey.) I felt like G-d had left me a long time ago. And, I was on my own at this point in life. Ms. C offered encouraging words (as always), and noted she didn’t want me to stay in a shelter. Plus, she felt G-d put it on her heart to send me an additional Venmo payment. My anxiety calmed down and I was ready to get on the bus to NYC.

7:30 a.m. The bus came and we departed within 15 minutes.

10:00 a.m. Started researching reasonably priced Manhattan-based hostels and hotels that I could crash in for the night.

10:14 a.m. Came across a well-priced hostel via Booking.com that happens to match my aesthetic. I booked a reservation for a one-night stay and used the promo code that popped up on their website for first-time visitors.

11:03 a.m. The bus driver makes a rest stop. I used the restroom and then called an aunt to share some good news. She prayed with me and believed good things were coming my way this season, husband included.

12:40 p.m. Arrived in NYC! NYC is my birthplace, and the only city in America I’ve always felt like a human being. It’s also the only U.S.-based city where I feel super comfortable chatting with strangers of all phenotypes.

Side Note: Towards the end of the bus ride, the bus driver—a beige-skinned man who’d be constructed as a “white”—had noted on the intercom that he’s a former firefighter. So, once passengers got off the bus, I asked the bus driver a question regarding a fire I had survived three years ago.

For Context: Since my birth, my life has been bizarrely spared from death 12 times.

The last save was from a 4:30 a.m. fire in January three years ago that should have left me dead within minutes, especially as I suffer from chronic sinusitis and often breathe through one nostril at night.

The morning of the fire, I went to bed around 2:30 a.m. So, I never heard the building’s fire alarm go off. (Those alarms tend to be extremely loud, so the fact that my brainwaves bypassed that sound speaks to the cycle of sleep I was in.) And, I never heard my neighbor banging on my door to make sure I had escaped. Through one nostril, I was peacefully inhaling smoke that rose from three floors beneath me. I was in deep-sleep mode and approaching death from smoke inhalation.

Inquiry: My inquiry to the bus driver concerned an action a firefighter took, which saved my life by several minutes. And that is, I had learned that a firefighter returned to my floor and repeatedly yelled, “FIRE IN THE BUILDING.” That firefighter’s shout is what interrupted my brainwaves and woke me up in time to get the hell out of my studio apartment, which was impossible to breathe in from the second I woke up. (Since that early morning fire, it took me 2.5 years to relearn how to nap or fall asleep in peace.) I asked the bus driver if, in a situation like mine, it’s typical for a firefighter to return to the top floor of a building to warn residents of a fire, even if the fire’s been taken care of.

According to the bus driver, the protocol this firefighter followed is called “Secondary Search,” and was conducted to make sure no resident on my floor was still sleeping, as smoke inhalation—not flames—is what typically causes death in a building or home fire. Mystery solved. I have yet to write a thorough thank-you note to the firefighting team that saved my life three years ago. And, I (finally) plan on doing this before the year’s end.

1:16 p.m. I love walking in the city. However, heading to the subway on foot or walking 30 minutes to the hostel with four bags was not ideal. So, I booked a Lyft ride to the hostel. A kindhearted gentleman named Stanley picked me up. He’s a brown-skinned man who’d be constructed as a “black.” Turns out our families immigrated from the same country, so we communicated in English plus our mother tongue. Towards the end of our ride, I gave him the link to my photography portfolio, as I’m seeking clients in the city.

1:40 p.m. Arrived at the hostel and chilled in the common area until it was time to check in at 3:00 p.m.

3:15 p.m. Checked in with the receptionist, then headed to my room to change.

4:20 p.m. Left the hostel to find flip flops (for the shower) and food. Afterwards, I went back to the hostel and took a shower. I prayed and offered gratitude to G-d. I pulled an all-nighter to get to NYC, so I slept like a baby that night.