Lessons learned on the east coast of the USA.

I suppose you know a place has impacted you when you return to the place that you’re supposed to call home, and find that, like a coat from your childhood, it no longer fits that ideal of home. The place that managed to shake me this hard was the east coast of the United States, during the month of April, 2014. The time is just as important as the place, because when it came to various places on the east coast, this wasn’t my first rodeo, per se. But something about the timing, company, and the events that unfolded on a twelve-day excursion to this collection of states allowed them to come together to form the lessons that would unlock a world of bravery for me, a world where I’ve become my own hero – and if you knew me, and knew me prior to this trip, you’d know this meant the world.

            The east coast taught me that the world can fit inside of a few days. I never knew quite how much I could accomplish in such a short amount of time until I was jolted awake by the sound of an alarm in a friend’s bedroom in northern New Jersey, reeling from my mere two hours of sleep. Some sort of whispered instinct, mixed with a completely overpowering desire to hone the unpredictable had I and my best friends making a last minute decision to make the four hour drive to try and figure out some sort of way to see our favorite band together for the second time – the first time having been the end of the previous day, a whirlwind of jetting around the suburbs of Philadelphia, crossing busy intersections, impossible-to-find radio stations, being thisclose to meeting said favorite band, and concerts that make our own mental history books. Connecticut quickly turned from an ill-thought-out whim, to an impossibility, to standing in a library in a tiny New York town waiting for a printer to spit out tickets to the last date of aforementioned band’s very first headlining tour, and biggest headlining show yet.

            All this, done in a period of time that I’d spend at home doing little more than binge-watching episodes of Orange Is The New Black and fretting about my future.

            The east coast taught me that all the planning in the world can’t guarantee you the time of your life. In fact you’ll often find more little miracles nestled in with chaos. Most of the things that we found ourselves doing were not set in stone as we left the state of Ohio to begin our adventure. We made up the rules as we went along, kept things in a constant state of “To be announced”, and found out how beautiful a lack of structure truly can be. In the end, we ended up extending the trip two days, attending five concerts on various tours, and making our way up, down, and around four different states.

            The east coast taught me that clichés are what they are for a reason. It’s the little things – looking back after ten months at this collection of moments, I’ve realized how many little moments have stuck with me in a way that I cannot explain. Staring at the NYC skyling from a swingset in central park. Crossing a bridge in New York with my favorite song blasting on the radio. Cracking up over a dumb joke while we were stalled somewhere in Pennsylvania. Waiting for pizza in some Kmart on the way to Connecticut. Somehow, tiny moments like grew into something larger, something extraordinary, little preserved pieces of the past that will always make my heart feel fuller. It’s not about where you are, but who you’re with – Any adventure is special to me. Any chance for me to get out of Michigan is something worth celebrating. But the people I shared this journey with took good times and made them incredible, took incredible times and made them legendary. With these girls at my side I felt in invincible, like I was more than just a confused, anxiety-ridden girl, like I could accomplish anything.

 

            Through lessons learned mostly while staring out of a car window, through joy and love and experience and adventure, I found ways to save the day for myself, to become the hero I always needed me to be. I strolled into my house after being dropped off at the end of twelve days that felt more like years, feeling like someone new. That day, my mother remarked, “You’re not the same girl you were when you left.” She meant it as something bad, but little did she know, nothing could have been better than that.

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