Audrey
8:45AM: I’m up! Wasn’t feeling well last night and I still don’t feel great today. It’s a work-from-home day so luckily I can spend the morning in bed. I go to check on the plants sitting on my window sill, including an amateur attempt to grow herbs from seed. The basil I thought I killed is actually sending up miniscule sprouts.
11AM: I’m digging into work and making rice porridge for breakfast. Squirt, my roommate’s cat, demands attention. It’s almost his first birthday. When we first got him, he weighed about 2 pounds. Now he’s nearly a full grown cat. It’s crazy how much can change in a year. A year ago I was preparing to graduate college, my future filled with uncertainty and possibility. The subsequent 12 months were a tumult of major life transitions, health issues, friends lost and gained — and of course, a constant looming anxiety around the myriad of crises taking place on the global stage. I grappled, and still do, with how to make a difference. My contributions — of time, money, attention — feel inconsequential in the face of oppressive powers with infinite wealth and influence. But I also understand that change may sometimes be too gradual to be perceptible. Like the plants on my sill, the seeds of ideas may not immediately break through the soil, but must first grow roots beneath the surface. My life may seem insignificant in the face of it all, but at the end of the day it’s all I have, and I have to see it through as best I can.
12-3: I take a break to walk to the corner store; it’s a perfect spring day. My neighbors are out walking, trees are laden with blossoms. I remember vague details of a dream I had last night — something about my friends’ band playing a show on the PMA steps, me riding there on my bike, friends and warm weather. It leaves me with a tender feeling of acceptance, contentment, belonging: home. The feeling has eluded me since I moved here five years ago. Growing up in rural Vermont, I never felt like I was destined to spend my life in the woods — but moving to the city has been an adjustment in itself. Every year, though, Philly feels more comfortable. I’ll take my dream as a good omen.
4-8pm: I finish up work and it’s time to decompress. I cook another meal — this time, miso ramen with nori, egg tofu, enoki mushrooms, cilantro. A little random, but it’s my excuse to cook leftovers before they go bad. It turns out tasting pretty good.
8pm-midnight: I take a quick nap and head out from Fairmount to West Philly. My friends’ band (the aforementioned from my dream) is playing a basement show on UPenn’s campus. They knock it out of the park! The sound is super tight and the house is packed. Afterwards, we tend to a makeshift bonfire out back and kill a couple beers. It’s getting cold, but the fire, the alcohol, and the presence of friends brings warmth to my chest. As I head home for the evening, I’m struck by the feeling that everything is as it’s supposed to be. I’m a step closer to living the life that I dream of, and growth is taking place even when it seems imperceptible. The cycle of seasons is repeating once again, but as always things continue to change. It’s a period of renewal, and I’m ready to move forward.
audrey is a temple grad, graphic designer, artist, guitarist, roller skater, kimchi enjoyer, and part-time half-elf cleric living in fairmount. find her on insta @audreyleedesign. find her band @rugby_phl. find the band she dreamed about @garyellisband
