back in.

Back in June, when I returned from my trip to Peru, my mom encouraged me to write about the adventures that I had. (And that's definitely what I'd call my experience in Peru- one brilliant adventure after another) She had made the same suggestion when I returned from Italy and Europe a few years ago. She wanted to translate my writing into Chinese and send them into a Chinese newspaper she loves reading that publishes people's travels. Now, my parents and I have never really had a bad relationship, or even one that goes beyond the occasional rocky arguments that occur between a willful daughter and parents who have a clear grasp on how things should be. But it has also been a long time since kindergarten, when I told them everything that happened at school that day (and they stress that I remembered everything). I didn't really see until now that perhaps this was her way of finding her way back into my life. I never got to write down everything I did in Peru, but I still plan to eventually. I did, however, show my mom and dad every picture that my friend Jenny and I took. That's the thing about my parents. They almost refuse to let me board my flight, but don't even break a sweat when they see a picture that looks vaguely like me falling off a mountain. We've learned about each other and life throughout the years; I would say we've learned the most within the past year. They're starting to figure out when to push me and when to let me go. And I've started to learn that they are the people who most deserve to hear my stories. In 22 years, they have never forgotten me and have never stopped believing in my abilities. And they are the only people I can say that about.

I'm going through an interesting stage in my life. A lot of my friends have found jobs and started working. Some of them have just one more year of graduate school left and are thinking about the rest of their lives. I'm in this strange limbo during which I still have the hardest years of my education ahead of me. I don't pretend for one second to think that I deserve to be in medical school or that I have any particularly remarkable insights on the process. In fact, one of my current postulates is that medical school is probably done best with as few insights and overarching statements made in attempts to be sage as possible. But I did realize the other day that I want to write things down. I want to have stories to tell my parents. I want to remember these days that were such a challenge and hopefully be able to look at someone and say, it was worth the struggle.

Autumn always makes me feel this way. To be reflective and to remember waking up to a sunshiny chill behind pulled curtains. I just went back to read the first post I wrote for this blog and it was also on a September day. I remember writing it on my very small balcony in a blue lawn chair. I remember thinking about the year ahead with such uncertainty. I had no idea I would meet my best friend and some of the people who have become most consistent in my life this year. The people I'd have to let go of, and the people I will never let go. I had yet to learn painful truths about my friends that made them more beautiful to me. I was just beginning to figure out what would matter to me. And what I would make my life about.

I didn't do a lot of the things I wanted to do. Not every day was perfect. Most days, I got caught up in trying to achieve a distant goal (like getting a good score on the MCAT) and forgot to look around or take a walk. I can honestly say I experienced my lowest lows and highest highs between that first blog post written on September 14, a year ago. Maybe it's because I'm avoiding studying for my biochemistry exam on Tuesday. Or maybe it's because it's September 11 and ten years ago, I was in 7th grade preparing to take school pictures in a time that seemed Much Simpler. But I know that sitting here today, I would look back at myself a year ago, ten years ago, myself now, and say be certain. Be certain of yourself and your ability to handle what's to come. You need nothing else because with that certainty, there's nothing left to fear.