Goodbye to the Richest County in America

    With the arrival of August came the rain that I wished for all through July; thunder rolled through the valley every afternoon, and we spent the first week of August under relentless rain. I saw spectacular lightning storms in my last few days in the Tetons – lightning flashed every few seconds in the dark, illuminating the trees outside my window as bright as if it were day.

    The same relentless rain carried through my drive home, five days ago. As I packed up my car, said goodbye to my friends, and drove away from the park, I felt nothing but buoyant relief.

Currently, I can only describe my summer in the Tetons as the Biggest Life Lesson of my twenty-one years. I don’t regret it; I learned a lot about myself and the world around me. However, removed from the places and hobbies that bring me joy, struggling to connect with the people around me, I felt unfulfilled and stagnant.

    I am happy sometimes but mostly I am just living out of habit, I wrote in my journal in July. I was supposed to be in Wyoming until the end of September, but I ended my term last week.

How can I explain why without re-opening emotional wounds or feeling too vulnerable, too exposed? I haven’t been able to approach my summer rationally yet, but that probably just comes with time.

    Here’s what I can talk about: I’m back home, living in my childhood bedroom, just like many of my fellow EN502 classmates. But living at home is different now; I’m happy, or at least content. Settling back into my family’s familiar, meandering summer routine we’ve lived forever has been the best way for me to recover and find purpose again.

    I dyed my hair again, I’m riding my bike around my neighborhood, I’m sitting in the grass by the river where my high school used to run the mile. Seattle is still in my future, and I like knowing that this fall holds so many fun, wonderful activities, but I’m not in any rush for September to arrive. For now, I’m content hanging out with my family, re-reading Twilight, and hunting for the last few raspberries in our garden before the plum trees ripen.

    One thing that comforted me in these last few weeks was, of course, our dear professor's famous saying: Onward!

    With peace and love (and I'm sure I'll update again soon!),

    Hanna