Sometimes it’s easier for me to write about sad things than happy things.

When I began finding my voice as a writer in college, I wrote mainly about the struggles that I was actively working through. Writing was as much for me to sift through and understand those experiences as it was to share them with any audience. The words came easily to describe old traumas and buried pain. I found that, in contrast, my happier experiences didn’t need any reflection or exploration—I simply lived them.

I challenged myself to avoid sadder topics when I joined the post calvin. But the struggles of this past year made it difficult for me to feign positivity. I’m present-minded rather than philosophical, so I tend to write about what’s going on in my life. The words poured out of me when I shared about pandemic depression, childhood trauma, and missing my family.

There is certainly a historical precedent for the brooding, sad artist or creative type. Even now, for every upbeat song like Pharell Williams’s “Happy,” it seems there are a dozen others about lost love and loneliness. Taylor Swift has written hundreds of songs, but she became infamous for her lyrics exploring heartbreak and betrayal and who was the reason for the teardrops on her guitar. Adele rose to fame after two stellar breakup albums, to the extent that I wondered if she’d write anything as good after she got married.

Things are better now, but it’s harder for me to describe. The most true way to put it is that contentment has been slowly blooming for me this summer. It’s not a very clever metaphor to use, but it’s true.

Josh and I finally managed to cross the border and visit my family in Michigan. We spent the last part of June relaxing at my sister’s lake house, all together with my siblings, parents, nieces and nephew for the first time since that last pre-COVID Christmas. I was back with my people.

The next month, I spent a week in Madison for my friend Monica’s wedding. The familiar delight of my roommates’ laughter, blended with the well-known scenery of my favorite isthmus city, was a balm for my soul. These, too, were my people.

I expected that going to Madison would feel like returning home, and I relished driving those roads that make more sense to me than the endless and bustling grid of Toronto. But I felt like a visitor in what had once been my city. To my own surprise, flying back to Josh in Toronto is what felt like going home.

Now, home is our basement apartment with the outdated bathroom and knotty pine-paneled walls. No other rental could have a backyard this beautiful where Josh and I can enjoy morning coffee while watching our dog explore. We signed on for another year, eager to spend at least one more spring watching the magnolia tree bloom. And as uncertainty looms with COVID variants, having an outdoor space where we can grill for our friends is even more essential.

Our friends, not just Josh’s friends. These people are my people now. With the lockdown lifted, Josh and I have been able to host barbecues and game nights and go camping and hiking. We went to masked, in-person church for the first time. I even went downtown for a girls’ night.

One last blessing is that my permanent residence has finally been granted. I hope that soon I’ll find a job. Even if it’s fully remote, I can’t wait to get back to a structured workweek.

I can’t think of a creative way to share all the good news. To be honest, I spent the last weekend eating good food and hanging out with good people, not planning for what to write.

Taylor Swift, whose lyrics I’ve borrowed before to describe how I’m feeling, composes her songs differently now. She’s been with the same guy for almost five years and keeps her personal life relatively private. This summer, she released two albums that were more imaginative than autobiographical. The first song on folklore opens with my favorite lyric, “I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit.” The record won a Grammy for album of the year. I suppose she’s proof that you can write great things even when life is going well.

I don’t expect my happy writing to win any awards, but that’s fine. I’ll keep practicing, because I’m doing good. I’m with my people. I’m home.

Laura Sheppard Song

Laura graduated from Calvin in 2015 with a degree in art and writing. She lives in Toronto, Ontario, with her husband Josh and dog Rainy. She works as an IT support analyst and enjoys painting, rock climbing, and exploring the city.