Over a month ago I left San Diego, headed for Washington, to try something new. It didn't really hit me, what I was embarking on, until I dropped my dad off at the Seattle airport one Friday in May. In the rushed moment it took to pull up to the curb and watch my dad walk through the sliding doors into the terminal I realized I was alone - completely alone - for the next month.
In that second I felt like I had let my teenage idealism take the best of me. I had directed myself into doing something that I wasn't ready for. I had always considered myself to be independent, if not a little introverted, but in that moment I felt terrifyingly alone and unbelievably naive. I thought that I should be spending my Friday night hanging out with my friends, driving around our neighborhoods with the windows down, the radio cranked up, singing lame songs at the tops of our lungs. Which is to say, I thought I should be spending my Friday night being a teenager.
I was crying by the time I pulled onto the freeway. I was embarrassed and lonely and vulnerable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and hug my friends and tell my parents I had made a mistake, that I wanted to go home.
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The following month would be one of the best of my life. I met unbelievably unique, generous people and worked in some of the most strikingly beautiful places I've ever seen. I saw the greenest, densest forests and the most rugged coastlines. I got to watch things that I helped build take shape; vegetables that I helped plant, grow.
Let it be noted that I didn't find my life's calling in those three weeks. I'm not physically cut out for farm work. Though I've intimately come to appreciate the efforts necessary to sustain a small-scale organic farm, I can't imagine myself working on one for the rest of my life. That's not to say I didn't find anything in that month, though.
During that month I got to be my own person. I developed relationships with people outside of my high school bubble. I made my own decisions and directed where I would go, what kind of impression I would make. I was solely responsible for myself, my actions, my accountability - all in an unknown setting, 1300 miles from home - and I was content. I realized, in this way, that I had been spending my Friday nights being an adult.
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I'm infinitely thankful to everyone who enabled me to take this trip. Jade Mohr, for approving my proposal. My parents, for letting go.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
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And yes, after you dropped me off at the Seattle Airport and I was walking through those doors, I was crying too. You were ready for this adventure but (as usual) I was not fully prepared to let go. Just like when Kellen left to move to Mammoth and after we dropped Nick off at the dorms -- I had this sense of loss. Somehow, selfishly, I wanted a little more. Driving with you from San Diego to Seattle was a great adventure and I will always cherish the time we spent together. Our goal as parents is to prepare our "kids" to be mature, sensible, responsible, and self reliant adults at age 18. You are all of those things and so much more. Thank you for not saying "I made a mistake" or "please come get me I want to go home. You stuck with it, had a great time, learned a lot and came home with a number of life lessons. We love you and are so incredibly proud of you.
ReplyDeleteDad & Mom
Natalie, you sound old and incredibly wise. I know only enough to realize that a day will probably come when I can recognize that I'm still naive. I'm not sure I've hit that point yet. I think I'm trying to put it off. The fact that you're there already means you've really learned something about yourself, I think.
ReplyDeleteAnd if your graduation speech is half as good, it'll be twice as good as mine.
You're brilliant.
hey i stumbled upon your blog when i was looking into farms in washington. i was wondering if i can email you some questions i had because i'm really interested in wwoofing. thanks! my email is fanmang87@gmail.com
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