As I stepped out of the plane, I immediately breathed in the fresh, less stale air that Denver provided me. This was the first time my parents fully entrusted me with figuring out my own trip. I got my plane ticket, figured out a ride from the airport and a place to stay. However, I can’t confidently state that I had formulated much of a plan for actual activities to take up my seven days in Denver. Last summer, right before the start of my senior year, my two closest friends, Amelia and Lauren, moved to Denver within 10 minutes of each other. I had never been there before, but they spoke about Denver with such high regard. It felt like fate that I should live there with them, but that wasn’t always the case.
I’ve lived in Massachusetts my whole entire life, just north of Boston. And I love my home; it has provided me with everything it was meant to provide me. Growing up, I adored having all four seasons, the salty sting of being in ocean water during the summer, the thrill of walking around Boston, thinking that there couldn’t be any city bigger. Now that I’ve crossed this line into adulthood, I feel comfort rather than excitement living in Massachusetts. I’ve learned to appreciate the changing of the seasons. I’ve taken ocean view drives and gotten beach pizza with my friends to talk about our futures. I’ve walked Boston more times than I can count, truly recognizing that it really isn’t all that big of a city. Originally, I was planning on moving to Boston once I graduated. I have a lot of friends that are scattered all around Boston and I know the city. But I started to wonder, would it be enough?
During my senior year, as things were constantly being thrown my way and it felt like someone was pressing fast forward on my life, I began to notice certain things. While I was thinking about my future and earning money and applying for jobs, my four other roommates were growing immensely close to one another. Every night they would congregate into one room, get insanely high, eat a disgusting amount of snacks and watch tv together. And every night, I could hear laughing reverberate through the thin walls in my house as I sat alone in my room doing work. It was almost like I had missed a moment of connection with them and from then on, I felt like I didn't fit in with the group as much anymore. However, it was not the fact that I didn't connect with them that bothered me, it was the fact that I had never once in my life experienced a friendship like I witnessed them foster amongst one another.
My first few days in Denver, I told myself not to think too hard about considering this as a potential place to live, my mindset was to just have fun. I toured breweries, tried different restaurants, explored the city, indulged in the night life. One night, I went out to a bar with Amelia and Lauren, where they met for the first time, as well as a couple of their friends. We drank an impressive amount of vodka crans whilst constantly feeding the pool table to play another game. We met a bunch of random people and even bet money on some of our pool games (which we won), and just talked about life. I felt like I didn't need a filter with them. They were the type of people who connect with who you are, not what you’ve done. All my life, I’ve befriended people who I felt like I needed to tiptoe around, constantly afraid of stepping on toes. This was the first time I felt truly appreciated as a friend and person. We stayed at that pool bar until it closed at 2 and then we went home. I found myself sandwiched between Lauren, one of my good friends, and Kevin, someone I now consider a close friend as well, on the couch. As we slowly sunk farther and farther into the couch, we drank more, played games and put on a movie to watch. We snuggled close together and cracked jokes at the people on the screen. I have never felt more at home than in that moment. I finally understood how my roommates felt every night.
The next morning, I went back to Amelia’s apartment, where I was staying for the week. Suffering from an unbearable hangover, we both decided to just take the whole day off. We had nowhere to be and nothing planned that we had to do. So, we didn't. We door dashed donuts and parked our butts on her bed with her dog Honey to watch movies on the projector. We talked about life, relationships, our past lives. We have been friends since fifth grade, and we touched on things we had never talked about before. At the end of the day, when our minds were a little less foggy, we went to go grab tacos from an authentic Mexican drive-through and took them to the roof of her apartment building. Since she is the assistant manager of the building, she has keys to places no one truly goes or has the opportunity to appreciate. As we created a little taco picnic in front of us, Honey lied down with her head on my lap. I looked in front of me at the sun setting over the tall mountains and spread my gaze to the small city at my right. It felt like I was home.
Before my trip to Denver, life felt as though it was crashing into me. I’d sit in silence, but my mind would be screaming. I have always been someone who knows exactly what I need to do to succeed and then I plan how I will do it. Going into senior year, nothing felt right because of all of the unknowns I held for my future. My future wasn’t something that I could plan out perfectly and execute it to my exact liking. I watched some of my friends receive job offers and others struggle with what they want to do with their lives. I witnessed anxiety turn into confidence. I listened as people talked about their own acceptance of the unknown. I congratulated the people whose plans fell perfectly into place. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel jealous, wishing that I could feel that same sense of calm after the storm that is senior year of college.
After Denver, I felt blessed to have been able to feel at least one piece of the puzzle fall into its rightful place. Boston will always be a part of my life, but it is my time to find my own place to call home and my heart is screaming Denver. I am confident that I will eventually have a completed puzzle of my future where all the pieces fit, but for now, where I wish to live is a factor that I am confident about. The minute I stepped onto that plane to come back home, I missed it. I missed the friendships, the nature, the small city whose streets each held a different personality able to be picked apart and explored. It will always be a scary, risk-filled endeavor to leave the place you’ve called home for the entirety of your life. But why settle for comfort when all you have to do is jump right into the world and see if you can swim.
I’ve lived in Massachusetts my whole entire life, just north of Boston. And I love my home; it has provided me with everything it was meant to provide me. Growing up, I adored having all four seasons, the salty sting of being in ocean water during the summer, the thrill of walking around Boston, thinking that there couldn’t be any city bigger. Now that I’ve crossed this line into adulthood, I feel comfort rather than excitement living in Massachusetts. I’ve learned to appreciate the changing of the seasons. I’ve taken ocean view drives and gotten beach pizza with my friends to talk about our futures. I’ve walked Boston more times than I can count, truly recognizing that it really isn’t all that big of a city. Originally, I was planning on moving to Boston once I graduated. I have a lot of friends that are scattered all around Boston and I know the city. But I started to wonder, would it be enough?
During my senior year, as things were constantly being thrown my way and it felt like someone was pressing fast forward on my life, I began to notice certain things. While I was thinking about my future and earning money and applying for jobs, my four other roommates were growing immensely close to one another. Every night they would congregate into one room, get insanely high, eat a disgusting amount of snacks and watch tv together. And every night, I could hear laughing reverberate through the thin walls in my house as I sat alone in my room doing work. It was almost like I had missed a moment of connection with them and from then on, I felt like I didn't fit in with the group as much anymore. However, it was not the fact that I didn't connect with them that bothered me, it was the fact that I had never once in my life experienced a friendship like I witnessed them foster amongst one another.
My first few days in Denver, I told myself not to think too hard about considering this as a potential place to live, my mindset was to just have fun. I toured breweries, tried different restaurants, explored the city, indulged in the night life. One night, I went out to a bar with Amelia and Lauren, where they met for the first time, as well as a couple of their friends. We drank an impressive amount of vodka crans whilst constantly feeding the pool table to play another game. We met a bunch of random people and even bet money on some of our pool games (which we won), and just talked about life. I felt like I didn't need a filter with them. They were the type of people who connect with who you are, not what you’ve done. All my life, I’ve befriended people who I felt like I needed to tiptoe around, constantly afraid of stepping on toes. This was the first time I felt truly appreciated as a friend and person. We stayed at that pool bar until it closed at 2 and then we went home. I found myself sandwiched between Lauren, one of my good friends, and Kevin, someone I now consider a close friend as well, on the couch. As we slowly sunk farther and farther into the couch, we drank more, played games and put on a movie to watch. We snuggled close together and cracked jokes at the people on the screen. I have never felt more at home than in that moment. I finally understood how my roommates felt every night.
The next morning, I went back to Amelia’s apartment, where I was staying for the week. Suffering from an unbearable hangover, we both decided to just take the whole day off. We had nowhere to be and nothing planned that we had to do. So, we didn't. We door dashed donuts and parked our butts on her bed with her dog Honey to watch movies on the projector. We talked about life, relationships, our past lives. We have been friends since fifth grade, and we touched on things we had never talked about before. At the end of the day, when our minds were a little less foggy, we went to go grab tacos from an authentic Mexican drive-through and took them to the roof of her apartment building. Since she is the assistant manager of the building, she has keys to places no one truly goes or has the opportunity to appreciate. As we created a little taco picnic in front of us, Honey lied down with her head on my lap. I looked in front of me at the sun setting over the tall mountains and spread my gaze to the small city at my right. It felt like I was home.
Before my trip to Denver, life felt as though it was crashing into me. I’d sit in silence, but my mind would be screaming. I have always been someone who knows exactly what I need to do to succeed and then I plan how I will do it. Going into senior year, nothing felt right because of all of the unknowns I held for my future. My future wasn’t something that I could plan out perfectly and execute it to my exact liking. I watched some of my friends receive job offers and others struggle with what they want to do with their lives. I witnessed anxiety turn into confidence. I listened as people talked about their own acceptance of the unknown. I congratulated the people whose plans fell perfectly into place. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel jealous, wishing that I could feel that same sense of calm after the storm that is senior year of college.
After Denver, I felt blessed to have been able to feel at least one piece of the puzzle fall into its rightful place. Boston will always be a part of my life, but it is my time to find my own place to call home and my heart is screaming Denver. I am confident that I will eventually have a completed puzzle of my future where all the pieces fit, but for now, where I wish to live is a factor that I am confident about. The minute I stepped onto that plane to come back home, I missed it. I missed the friendships, the nature, the small city whose streets each held a different personality able to be picked apart and explored. It will always be a scary, risk-filled endeavor to leave the place you’ve called home for the entirety of your life. But why settle for comfort when all you have to do is jump right into the world and see if you can swim.