Endless Blooming Of Our Own

I will never underestimate the power of a girl's trip.

Whether you've just survived the worst era of your life or are coming off your highest high, a girls' trip always hits. It has this magic ability to touch the soul every time. One of our unofficial anthems was "Be Like a Woman" by Chris Rainbow.

"Stay out at night. See who you wanna see, yeah. Do what you want, but be like a woman to me."

The first trip with us four dancers being legal felt nothing but freeing. Not because of the frozen margs or the world-famous cocktails we could finally try, but because the biggest event on our agenda was watching The Bee Movie.

The entire trip was an exercise in contradiction. Given all the freedom in the world, a good group of friends will somehow use it to simply abuse humor. We kept calling it a trip that constantly peaked.

My friend's parents spoiled us with suites at the Jefferson Hotel, a Virginia landmark. A car and a boat in the Outer Banks. They essentially handed us every ingredient for an unforgettable weekend. And what did we do with it?

We watched The Bee Movie twice.

Made a laundry list of inside jokes.

Had stupid fun.

And somehow, despite all that presence, I realized this is my last hoorah of my final truly free summer.

Tomorrow, I fly to Pittsburgh for orientation at my finance job.

From here on out, summer is a season, not a vacation. Girl's trips are a plan, no longer happenstance. A lot more things might feel less like serendipity and more like scheduling. Responsibility may no longer be about being wise with what you have been given, but rather learning to keep what you have.

At least that's the story I sometimes tell myself.

…

The truth is, I suspect (and pray) that's too pessimistic.

Maybe freedom doesn't disappear when you grow up. Maybe it just changes form. Maybe there is something even more beautiful about creating your own freedom through your choices, personal finances, and the awarded autonomy to decide how your days are spent.

But just in case true adulthood isn't quite as romantic as I'm imagining, I'm glad I've joy-maxxed my life thus far.

Like Barry the Bee (star of The Bee Movie), who, when faced with employment, attempted to dismantle the entire bee economy rather than get a job, I've spent the last few years saying yes to every adventure I could.

I'm overjoyed that I've traveled whenever possible, followed friends home from college, and tried to inhabit places rather than simply visit them. It’s been a real pleasure to have gotten lost again and again while the world was generous enough to hand me breaks in the schedule and abundant resources to explore them.

Thank you, parents.

And, thank you, me, for getting addicted to the drug of travel, and nothing else.

…

So, in preparation to become a fully-fledged adult, I hope that every opportunity can feel like something worth honoring by fully enjoying.

I hope that, like the Outer Banks dock workers (shoutout Zootedtopia) who operated entirely on island time and had us laughing so hard we were repeating direct quotes days later, we learn how to joy-maxx while we're on the clock.

That the schedule makes us dedicated but not confined.

That the routine sets us free.

And that we find many, many ways to be four girls who dance everywhere they go.

That our souls are found not only when we run away on girls' trips, but in the ordinary times that follow.

That purpose itself becomes the adventure.

And what waits for us is not the end of the season, but the beginning of endless blooming of our own.