Dear midnight,

We have not met in a long time. Rather, we used to be best friends, inseparable, I didn't know how to function without you; but now we are acquaintances, friends, but a far cry from what we once were. Being a working woman, commuter cyclist and camp song apprentice means that midnight doesn't make as much sense as it used to. It may never have made sense, but the schedule of college students has very little to do with sense.

When the Fourth of July falls on a Wednesday, it makes it basically impossible to schedule any kind of programming for youth because all of their parents take them off to a cabin or a lake to celebrate. And I shall do the same! That means that I have a whole week free of walkie talkies, repeat after me songs and endless photocopying. This may make it sound like my current work is painful, but I think it's close to what I needed; it's a long, full day, connected to the worlds of theater and young people and I'm learning the rhythms and etiquettes of office life. So I'm on a midnight bus headed home to do the Fourth with my family. (I didn't want to waste any of my vacation time so the overnight bus was the only option, plus I've maybe grown to like it. Except for the inevitable old man loudly talking in a foreign language to someone who doesn't know where this guy is headed. "Chicago…Chicago.).

Since the last time I was on the bus I have said goodbye to my dearest roommate family, moved out of our dear house and into a duplex with a student who is just what I was looking for after leaving that home. Last time I was on the bus, I spent a decent amount of the ride gritting my teeth and trying not to cry. That was no small part of the last six weeks, but I'm beginning to think I'm leaving that phase of post-grad life. I can tell stories without fear of tears and talk to people without feeling like I might need to excuse myself and take some deep breaths in the bathroom. When I got on the bus last time my parents made me agree to speak with them everyday because most of the last six weeks I've been living alone. (I get the appeal, but that is so not what I need right now.). We talked everyday for several weeks and now we talk almost everyday. It might be a bit overkill, but it's been working for me.

Things feel different, if only slightly, always with the understanding that things will change for real in September. Right now it definitely feels like I am going back to class in the fall. There might be another weepy phase when I get to September. In the mean time, I am grateful to be busy, to be less sad and to be connected in so many ways. I wish I would write more, cook more and adventure more, but there's time for that. Until September I just want to enjoy midnight when I can and try not to get a serious farmer's tan

Midnight, I miss you. Stay in touch.


love,
hannah