College summers are strange. I have been out of school since April 25th at 12:00pm, but part of me feels like summer started just one week ago, when my three younger siblings got out of school and started their summer breaks. I also feel like I start summer tomorrow, when I begin the first day of my summer job working as a camp counselor. Another sliver of me feels that it started when I flew back home from Montreal to San Francisco, and was reunited with my hometown after being separated from it for 5 months. But maybe summer really did start at 12:01pm on April 25th, as soon as my last final exam of second year of university was collected.
It was hard to feel closure from this year. I remember leaving the gigantic gymnasium after turning in my exam, and feeling absolutely zero relief. I marched back to my apartment as if I had another course to study for. As soon as it hit me that it was summer, which genuinely took several days, I had to figure out what I was going to do with all of the 24 hour days I had laid out in front of me for the next month.
I was staying in my apartment in Montreal until June 4th. This meant I had over a month where I would be in an apartment with essentially no schedule. I had a month alone with my thoughts. A month to address all the tangled feelings that I had been pushing into the corner of my mind for the entire semester. The random things in my mind that didn’t feel like they were having a substantial enough impact on my overall well-being throughout the semester to do anything about them. But there they all were, sitting in a mess in my mind, waiting to be addressed now that I did in fact have the time.
The most difficult part of the month of May was the lack of schedule. And many days this was extremely challenging. I would sit on my carpet scrolling through my phone. Or I would sit on my bed for hours and do the same thing. But some days I decided to pick up the ukulele I had purchased just a few months ago, and attempt to master some new chords or strumming patterns. I wrote a song. I wrote random poetry. I watercolored? I attempted to sew. I crocheted and I got pretty good at it! A lot of good came out of that month, and then it was over.
And then I’m on a flight to San Francisco. I land at almost midnight west coast time due to missing my earlier flight despite being at the airport two and a half hours early. Yeah, quite upsetting. So I hop in the car with my parents in the front seats and my dog in the back. Always a strange feeling being back to a place that I have lived for 17.5 years of my 19 years on this earth.
Fast forward, I am now sitting in a coffee shop and the date reads June 23, 2024. I saw some friends. I grew frustrated when having to face old issues. I felt frustrated with myself for not being present. I soaked in the sunshine. I buried myself in my childhood bed and tried (and failed) to find a comfortable position to lay on the twin mattress. I tried to speak to my little sister who is now 13 years old, not 8 anymore. I said hi to my brother, who now towers over me. I let my other sister drive me to the beach and back. She turned off my music as soon as I plugged it into the car. I missed her.
And tomorrow I will have seven new best friends. Seven five year olds with an outlook on the world that I strive for. With curiosity crawling through their veins as they look at a bug on the ground as if it is a magical creature that only exists in a fairytale. I will once again be reminded of how a creek can look like a river and a rock can be anything. I will breathe in the air of my hometown, which my lungs used to reject. I will inhale only the cheerful smiles and joyous laughter. There was always breathable air here, I just hadn’t found it two years ago.