Your first summer away from home — the kind where you choose not to go back — isn’t easy. I missed my family, my dog, the familiar faces of my hometown, and even the simple comforts like driving my own car or sitting down to one of my mom’s dinners.
Seattle doesn’t magically fill those gaps, but this summer I learned that if you put in the effort, you can carve out a life that feels worth staying for.
My three roommates and I all decided to stick it out in our apartment through the summer, partly because our lease was ending and we knew this was our last stretch together. Between long weeks at our jobs — mine mostly at Whole Foods and writing for the newspaper — I squeezed in what I called a “summer on spontaneity.” Translation: stop overplanning, say yes to random ideas, and let the days unfold however they wanted.
Sometimes that meant something simple, like hopping on a Lime bike and coasting down the Burke Gilman trail to Gas Works Park just to sit by the water, or spending an entire afternoon reading in a coffee shop with no agenda.
Other times it was a little less picture-perfect, like sitting in my noisy front yard with a makeshift charcuterie board while people yelled on the street. My doodles sucked, the street ambiance was questionable, but sitting in the sun with snacks and no pressure? Kind of perfect.
The best parts of summer, though, were the small, random joys:
- Playing card games on an outdoor patio with friends (and sipping a Shirley Temple like I was ten years old again)
- Burgers at Gas Works Brewing
- Buying a pound of fresh cherries at the Saturday Farmer’s Market and eating them straight out of the box as we wandered in the sun
- Last-minute concerts that cost next to nothing but still gave me the same adrenaline rush as big-ticket shows
- Eating sushi on Ella’s roof as the sky turned pink and orange — a plan made on a whim after work that ended up being one of my favorite memories
Work was still always there, creeping into my “time off.” Even when I tried to unplug, I’d find myself thinking about deadlines or story pitches. At one point I was put on a harmless “ban” from writing for the newspaper that was supposed to last a week, but it barely made it two days before “something came up” and I just had to write about it. I guess that’s just who I am — always working, but usually in a way that feels more like passion than punishment.
Looking back, the summer wasn’t glamorous. There were no huge European vacations, no luxury dinners, no big milestones. But there was laughter over delicious food, biking home sweaty and happy, and friends who made the long days worth it.
And honestly, that’s what made it so special. The first summer you choose to stay away from home is never going to be easy — there will always be things you miss. But this summer taught me that creating your own version of home, even if it’s messy and improvised, is just as valuable. By leaning into the little things — cherries, concerts, sunsets, friends — I built something here for myself.
And now, when I think about Seattle, it doesn’t just feel like the city I go to school in. It feels a little more like mine.