Small Stories of a Twenty-Something Adventuring Through Life
I always liked summer best.
It meant week-long stays at
Grandma’s
with trips to the
old fashioned soda fountain
and never ending
bike rides among
Iowa cornfields
and endless indulgence
in homemade baked goods
and Spring Park
and The Barney Park
and rides in Grandpa’s Plane
__
watching Andy Griffith
and Leave it to Beaver on TV Land
wandering the small town streets
so different from my suburban backyard
feeling so at home in
my childhood home away from home.
Continue reading “[Osage, Iowa]”Hopelessly in love
with those years…spent wandering
that magical place Continue reading “The Prairie Revisited. Again.”
Thailand,
It has come to my attention that I will be leaving your borders for the unforeseeable future quite soon. It’s an ending that’s coming quicker than I anticipated and it’s an ending that will fill me with an equal amount of joy–at the prospect of returning home–and sadness–because, well, Thailand, you’ve become a new home. Feelings aside (because we all know how much I love feelings), it’s an occurrence that will inevitably happen sooner than later. Well, Thailand, before the onset of said occurrence, I have some words to get out there regarding my time here.
— — — —
Oh Thailand, it’s been such a wild ride. One that I will never forget. One that has shaped me in more ways than I ever possibly imagined. Thailand–you are everything: frustrating, beautiful, frustratingly beautiful. You are exciting, an adventure always waiting to happen, a whirlwind of crazy, wonderful, exacerbating, so much life. You are an endless array of oxymorons and you never get old.
and Thailand…oh Thailand…
I love you.
I love you a lot.
Adjusting to you was far from easy. Sometimes, adjusting to you was downright the worst. Chief among the struggles I encountered during my adjustment period was your food–because although there is so much to love about Thai food, eating it day in and Continue reading “From a Five Month Expat, With Love”
This morning I woke up on my college campus for the first time in almost four months.
My college campus alma mater.
I woke up in the on campus apartment that the friend I was staying with lives in, rose from the couch that had been my bed for the night, and promptly went to look out the window.
It was a beautiful day. Gorgeous. The campus mall was brimming with green grass and the sky was blue. As I looked out at this scene, I found myself in awe of the beauty of this place that I had called home for four years. I looked out that window and I thought what a privilege it was to have this view. For four years of my life, I had had this view. Not from that same exact spot staring out that same exact window, of course. But I saw it every day. Early in the morning, I walked to classes on those sidewalks carved so effortlessly into the architecture of the mall. I trudged back from the library at 1 am closing time on those same sidewalks–exhausted, tired, craving sleep. I sat out on that green, green grass–or, in the spring time, grass still dead from six, seven months under snow–working on homework, spending time with friends (that one time drinking vodka disguised in a water bottle, progressively getting drunker as the sun beat down on us). I lived and breathed in that space. My whole being was a part of it.
It was my home for four years. And what a privilege to have called it home.
— — — —
Some places are just magical, you know? My alma mater will always be one of those places for me. This place shaped me. Many of my most critical moments of learning and growth happened not just on this campus, but because of this campus.
When I woke up today on that couch in my friend’s apartment…when I got up to look out that window…I was so very aware of that.
I was so very aware of how so very privileged I was to have had that view; to have occupied that space; and to be have been incredibly influenced by it. To still be incredibly influenced by it…even now, as an alum.
And I knew without a doubt that wherever I go in this world–Thailand, and then who knows where–this small liberal arts school on the prairie, this place that I can now call my alma mater…it will always be with me.
It’s the magic of it all.
It’s a part of me now.
Clayton A. Gay Hall.
It’s ugly (Cold War era, looks like a bomb shelter ugly). My room is too warm all the time. The bathrooms could be a smidge bigger. The walls are too thin and the Continue reading “Nostalgic Appreciation”
It's a Britta Bottle! 