To start off, you need a little background information. I live in small town called Hamilton, but I grew up much in Holland. I went to school there. My friends lived there. It’s where we shopped and hung out. Holland itself isn’t this giant city like Grand Rapids or Chicago, but it’s a decent size with a population of mainly Dutch immigrations and the generations after them. Oh! And we’re proud of it. Each year we have a festival celebrating it in the only way possible, with tulips and Dutch dancing beyond your imagination. It’s a blast, but also probably looks crazy from the outside. It’s my childhood though and a tradition that I still love taking friends to.
So as fate would have it, I’m off on yet another adventure. This time, it’s Europe. Instead of doing schoolwork though, this is more of a sightseeing. Basically my old high school was going a trip, and my mother saw it as the perfect chance to travel again without having to plan anything. That combined with being great friends with one of the head teachers on the trip lead to an open door and a chance to travel again.
As children, we’re taught how to string letters into words, words into sentences. We’re taught how to weave stories based around the childish world inside our minds. It’s an innocent act scribbled out on lined paper with pictures drawn in crayon. Then we get older. Writing becomes a necessary evil if we have any hope of surviving school. What once brought us joy now brings dread and boredom. Many of us forget what writing can truly be and accept that all we’ll ever write is essays and emails. Continue reading “The Price of Writing”
A couple weeks ago, I reconnected with an old friend. We went to lunch and caught each other up on our lives. We actually were girls and talked about boys. We laughed while talking about the old days. We went to the beach and walked along the shore. The waters were freezing, but let’s be honest; Lake Michigan is always cold. We sat at a picnic table with two Pepsi’s between us. Continue reading “The Happiness in Letting Go”
So the adventure has come and gone. I’ve settled back into the routine of life. I no longer wake up to the sound of morning prayer. Instead it’s the birds I hear outside my window. The food is no longer a mystery, even though leftovers can sometimes get pretty close. Instead of visiting with refugees, I’m running errands and walking along the beach with a friend by my side. Normality has become a thing once again, even though the memories are vivid. Continue reading “What Will Come of This”
A little less than two weeks ago, I got on a plane headed to a place I’d never been with a group of strangers. Tomorrow I’ll be boarding a plane again, but this time I’ll be returning home with a group of friends. And while I’m happy to return home, there’s part of me that longs to stay. This country is beautiful, and the people are something special that you won’t find anywhere else.
Like I mentioned before I’m a film major, which means I’ve quickly become the one who gets questions regarding camera settings or the go to person for help on this trip. It also means that when it came to videotaping the story of a refugee, I was one of the first asked to head up the camera aspect. So this morning I walked into the home of a refugee, thinking I knew the protocols and exactly how things would go. I was wrong.