I’m writing this on the beach in Carlsbad to remind myself that life is bigger than the USD campus, the hurtful text an old friend sent, and the boy I kissed last night. My existence is about more than these transient moments, and the world around me is a great reminder that I can experience the fleeting nature of this uncertain time without letting it consume me.
Nothing can take away from how salty the ocean water is or the warmth of the sun on my back. The ocean sounds just like it always does and the familiar smell of seaweed lingers all around me.
As I take in these familiar, comforting sensations, I’m reminded that right now, limbo doesn’t feel so bad. Existing in young adulthood – this “in-between” stage – with my heart scattered across the country feels strangely beautiful today. How lucky am I to exist in so many different places and in the hearts of so many people? Part of me hopes I’ll always straddle a line between one era and another; I’d rather not belong to just one.
This time of life is defined by its uncertainty and the hope of landing someplace steady. But maybe I don’t want to hold on for dear life until I’m on stable ground; I like the idea of having one foot in a life once lived while the other feels around for something new. In this strange transitional period, I spend most of my time exploring in fear, missing the opportunity to cherish my ability to exist in a million different places, feelings, and people at once. I am connected to my past, present, and future in a way so glaringly obvious I almost miss it.
For the rest of the day, I will relish in my alone time – an ability gifted to me that I rarely appreciate – and reflect on how lucky I am to be caught between stages.
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