Gripping the long metal bar, I pop my wrists back with force and the window clicks. It opens on a hinge, swinging down and out into the crisp morning. Right above the tree line appears my favorite building, a sight I’ve dreamt of seeing again for the seven years since I’ve been back: the York Minster.
The bells cut across the chilly morning air as I pull my sweater tighter around me and pad across the creaky floors to face the coffee machine. Or is it an espresso machine? Appliances are all just slightly more confusing here. We flip open the welcome binder, quickly decide this is too complicated and pull out the French press instead. This, I can do.
With a steaming cup of coffee finally in hand, I am now equipped to pull out my journal. The one I’ve sorely neglected all year.
I didn’t know how the year was going to go, to be fair.
When hard things happen, I don’t want to journal. It’s exactly the time I should, I know. But alas. The cocoon of reality shows and their affiliated podcasts has been a safe place for me, as “checking on you, friend” texts roll in and calls go unanswered. I’ll talk about the Real Housewives and the Taylor Swift x Travis Kelce romance all day every day. But how am I doing?
How am I really doing?
That morning in York, I felt so incredibly grateful. That in a year full of loss, one thing did come together like it was supposed to: this trip. Finally, in the space away from answering emails and anxious clients, I took a shuddering deep breath. I was so jet lagged that I barely processed being there, but I got to be blissfully away: from notifications, from responsibility, from anything other than an iced matcha latte and a meandering walk through town.
My British friends were appalled that we were only staying a week. “Ten days…that’s all the vacation time you get? Are you okay?” My answer: “Absolutely not!”
But when I journaled that morning, in that moment, I was okay. I was happy to be in a place I loved so much with a person I love so much. Excited to reunite with old friends and my favorite stack of (American) pancakes in the world. Encouraged by the fact that for the first time in a long time, I really did feel content. The familiar twinge of sadness mixed with the promise of hope. The hope of good, better, best days to come.
Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.
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Reading this little piece about your small vacation and taking a breath of fresh air felt like a small vacation and taking a breath of fresh air myself. Thank you!
Olivia, I loved reading your article and am so happy you got to go back to York!!!