The Summer of Me
Tags: Writing Prompts, Travel, Relationships, Lifestyle, Clothing

Another tradition is to travel.

Every summer, no matter my financial state — I make sure to explore. It’s what I did before I became a teacher and it’s what keeps me going those months in between. And I travel. Hard. I’ve been to Africa and South America and fought heat waves in the South of France. But this year, I tried something new. I rented a small cottage upstate and have never been happier. Something about the wildflowers and the mountain ranges soothes my soul and the strangest part is, I find I am just as content doing this sojourn solo than with friends.

Photo by Joel Holland on Unsplash

I have been traveling a lifetime with friends and family and think I maxed out tolerance. Single and in my forties the majority of friends travel with their families and I am left picking up the scraps. Something I did happily for years. A summer share, a weekend with the ladies, July 4th with my parents but something was clear, while it was nice to have companions on these journeys I found the happiest times were actually when I traveled solo. I put on a summer dress and tried something new.

I always thought it was a couples thing to spend time away. That’s what people post on social media anyway, perfect sunsets, string bikinis, and tandem hikes up Sisyphean hills with the perfect selfies to complete it. That was not going to be me and I was tired of waiting. Exhausted. So I rented a place and feared the isolation. Fortunately, I was a writer, so no one questions your need for solitude and tranquility. I would write and breath and this would be enough to satiate my summer cravings.

Two days in I wasn’t sure I could make it.

I wasn’t writing and the idyllic place I rented, was merely a small home in the middle of a cul de sac. So instead, of staring at a blank screen I decided to go out and see what the town and had to offer and then it happened. I was traveling again. This time without a passport but it was exhilarating. That high you get from new experiences, seeing something for the first time, breathing in nature. I was hiking and flower picking and seeing sunsets. I was shopping at farms and letting the juice from ripe tomatoes drip onto all my meals. I was doing what I wanted when I wanted and I was content. Free.

Photo by Rachel Lynette French on Unsplash

I found friends nearby and put on my best dress and met them for lunch. Lazy summer days of great conversation and swatting off bugs. I was happier just worrying about myself — then with others and the dresses I wore, made of nylon or polyester blend never needed care either. They were as carefree as I was.

Then I returned home. The rental is shared and I’d fluctuate in and out of reality. When I got to my apartment it felt small and stifling and I needed to go out. Most of my dresses were upstate so I used my newfound confidence to rip off the tag of my more formal ones and prepared for a stroll. These were more fitted dresses of sturdy cotton and silk and when I went to put them on I was stuck. Literally. Although they fit me now with my trimmed down hiker’s body, the zipper simply wouldn’t close. It was the angle, the material. I contorted my body in every direction I could. Grabbing tweezers and other accouterments to get it done and then it hit me in the middle of this contortion, I was alone. Really alone. I couldn’t put on this dress without the help of someone else. Sure I could have knocked on a neighbors door or called a friend, but it was more than just putting this piece of clothing on. It was the startling conclusion that I did want someone in my life. In my world. I didn’t want to always do everything alone just because it was easier and more comfortable. I put on a different dress and went outside.