A few years ago I saw the movie Adventureland, a forgettable teen rom-com, that nevertheless stuck with me. I was emotionally wrung out when I left the theater. For me, the movie perfectly captured the bliss of youthful freedom, those amazing high school summers when I had no responsibility and the world was my oyster. I mourned the loss of my youth that day, realizing that I would never again experience that same freedom and fun, first kisses and fast friendships.
I was awake at 4 a.m., too excited to sleep. (My “don’t worry I don’t snore” roommate sawing logs five feet away didn’t help.) I laid in bed for two hours trying to coax my body back into slumber and then listening to music on my iphone until it was a respectable hour to get up and walk. At 6 a.m., I couldn’t wait any longer. I quietly and mostly in the dark, so as not to wake my roommate, got dressed and packed my backpack.
Prince died. I know this is probably not news to any of you at this point, but I’m three days behind in my blog posts, and it hit me hard. I found out via text from Alex at the end of my rest day in A Balsa.