On the first day of school, I was listening to “Forever Young” when I pulled into the parking lot. Before this year, my car had only ever occupied a CHS parking spot after sundown for a random production or two. Now, my morning drive is one of my most cherished daily routines. I’ve found that setting intentions for the day ahead through the songs I play has become an intentional centering exercise.
Recently, my route to school has included the song “Ribs” by Lorde more often than it hasn’t. The lyric “It feels so scary getting old” feels like it’s screaming at me, holding my shoulders and shaking me as a reminder to cherish every moment. Oh my god I feel so old, but at the same time, I feel so grateful and grounded and excited and anticipatory. There are so many things that I’m feeling all the time that I couldn’t possibly name them all. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this lately and I’ve come to the conclusion that I just want to be in the present moment, spending time with the people that fill me with love.
“Follow the love” is a saying that I have adopted recently. It was first introduced to me a few weeks ago, sitting in a pile of melted cuddle on the basement couch under the glow of the TV screen. What had started as a “Wicked” sing-a-long had turned into an unexpected emotionally intelligent conversation. We talked and talked and talked: how we have appreciated the past few months, the care we have for each other, the things that we can do to create more memories. We wondered, what can we do to make the most out of our final semester? And that’s when it was vocalized: simply follow the love and everything else will fall into place as it’s supposed to.
Over the speaker, Lizzy McAlpine’s “Spring Into Summer” played: “Taking a picture of all the people close to us / Head below the surface, almost never certain of the truth / I’m always, forever, runnin’ back to you” — yet another reminder to follow the love.
I don’t think I will ever forget that night. And not because it was anything particularly grand or glorious, but rather because of it’s simplicity. I was reminded that “the love” is everywhere you go, but only if you take the time to find it.
The love is in Mom’s French onion soup and Ryan’s op-eds and Nacho Tuesdays. The love is in every day, and as long as I keep following it, I know I’m gonna be okay. The love is in every person I call my friend (or my aubauge), every song I listen to, and every playlist I make.
Throughout the past three and a half years, I have come to understand my Spotify profile as something of a second journal. It is a compilation of all the things I’ve felt, all the people I’ve cared for, and the music that has helped me through it all. It’s so special to me because of the way it all comes together into a timeline of who I was, who I am, and eventually, who I will be. Finding the right collection of songs to express the way I feel is such a unique experience for me — one that I might never be able to explain without a playlist of its own.
This morning, I was sitting under the table in room 300 listening to that same playlist we were listening to under the glow of the TV. I was working on this letter when I heard an upbeat dancey-type song that everyone in the room knew and I watched as my friends danced and sang together. And it was special. But, again, not because it was grand or glorious, but because it was real, because it was a genuine moment of love and community (high school.) I don’t know how else to describe it, but I was hit with this giant wave of gratitude.
But then I started thinking about how in May, we’re all going to graduate; in June, I’m going to camp in Vermont; and in September, my whole life will be new. Everyone says your last semester flies by, and candidly, I’m scared. But for now, the drive to school wouldn’t be complete without my winter coat around my shoulders and fuzzy red blanket across my lap.
Eventually, when I pull out of the lot, the music will be turned up and the windows will be rolled down and the wind will fly through my hair and I will be en route to the rest of my life. Eventually, I will stand on the stage of Hill Auditorium, looking around at these people who love each other so dearly — probably wishing for just one more day.
But for now, it’s January.
