Summer rewind
I’ve never been one who particularly enjoys change, but at the same time, change can also be exciting and adventurous. As I’ve been considering what to write for this column, I’ve thought over some of the changes I’ve made in previous summers and thought I would share some of my experiences.
This time in 2018, I was moving back to Rome, Georgia, after spending ten months in New Zealand. I had gotten a job at Rise ‘N Shine Farms for the summer, where I spent hours harvesting tomatoes and okra, wore the life out of a straw hat and sweat more in two months than I ever had in my entire life.
In June of 2017, I had just graduated from Berry College and was both helping my family move from Kentucky to Rome, but also preparing to leave the country to live in NZ for nearly a year. I spent days moving furniture, packing and unpacking boxes and driving U-Hauls between Kentucky and Georgia. And for a brief stint that summer, my entire family – Mom, Dad, Hannah (sister), me and our two dogs – lived in a two-bedroom, one-bathroom tiny cottage in Celanese that had no airconditioning and barely enough room for all of us to sleep.
This time three years ago, 2016, I had just returned from my study abroad semester in New Zealand and as soon as I got off one plane I was essentially on the next one and heading to Estes Park, Colorado, for my second summer as a camp counselor. I had everything packed for three months of adventuring and was ready to see old friends I had made the previous summer.
In my summer of 2015, I was driving out to Estes Park, Colorado, with my dad, as I wrote about in a recent column. We listened to a lot of John Denver and were in awe of the Rocky Mountains once we finally got past the flat plains of eastern Colorado.
In 2014, I lived in a motel room with seven other girls as a part of a college summer project in Fort Walton, Florida. I worked as a waitress (and discovered very quickly I didn’t like being a waitress), lived a two minute walk across from the Gulf of Mexico and learned a lot about living in extremely close proximity with 200 other college students.
And in 2013, I was working my summer away at a Chick-fil-A in Lexington, Kentucky, taking orders at the drive-thru and enjoying being inside during the hot summer weather. I spent my free time
painting, shopping for dorm room decorations and boxing up everything I was going to bring with me when I moved to Berry in August for my freshman year.
And this time, this year, I am also preparing for a change. I’ve recently been accepted to graduate school and have been offered a position to help me fund furthering my education. As much as I’ve loved Calhoun and have grown from working and spending most of my time in this quaint little town, I can’t pass up this opportunity.
So in July, I will once again be packing up everything I own into my car and driving away from a place I’ve grown to love and appreciate. I will be attending Chatham University in Pittsburgh, earning my Masters of Fine Arts in creative writing, and as this is something I’ve wanted to do for some time now, you could say I’m pretty excited.
Yet, as is expected, I am melancholy about leaving. I am sad to leave the Calhoun Coffee Co., Wall Street, the people I’ve worked with on stories, the connections I’ve made with the schools, local government, businesses and organizations.
I’ve never been one who enjoys change, but over the years of changing my location, changing my perspective and changing my future plans, I have come to see that sometimes change is a good thing. It doesn’t make leaving any easier, but it gives you something to look forward to.
Calhoun has taught me a lot during my short time here. I have learned how to not only be a better writer but also a better citizen. I have grown to find the reporter’s voice inside me rather than channeling the emotional, creative poet I’ve always considered myself to be. I have seen firsthand what a beautiful, tight-knit community can look like, but also how shady politics aren’t just limited to the national scale.
But most of all, I’ve learned that leaving is OK.
My friend Mick Duncan, who I’ve talked about before, once told me in his thick Kiwi accent, “Half, if not all, of life is spent returning.”
I like that quote, and three years after he told me that, it still rings in my head when I’m in the midst of a transition. It’s hopeful to me, and who knows, someday, I might find myself wandering back among the foothills of sweet little Calhoun. I just might.
Alexis Draut is a recent graduate of Berry College and a staff writer for the Calhoun
Times.