Dear XLV...

In the first week after December 18th, I found myself faced with everything from an actual work ethic to obscene consumerism to bad puns and the blank walls of adolescent melancholia. This is the memory of my winter break, along with long hours spent reading (that would have been lovely, had I not been trying to escape my family) and some delightfully cliche moments of gazing out to sea wistfully. I was interrupted from my reverie on numerous occasions, often by my sister flatly reminding me of my next challenge: taking on the second half of Junior Year at Spence.

Once I escaped from enforced family time during the second week, I spent all of my time with Rachel and Jake, often joined by Corey, Lily, Lydia and Anna, and Laura, and Leila, and Hannah visited us as well. That first Sunday that people started to trickle back into the city was coupled with incredible relief. I remember walking to the bus stop to meet Rachel, and, upon seeing her trademark hiking books protrude from underneath the kiosk wall, running as fast as I could to hug her. The relief was, I think, nearly as immense and cathartic as the soothing feeling I felt the minute I walked into the Wallace Center after Thanksgiving Break and was swooped into somebody's (I don't remember who's, but I think the fact that it doesn't matter is important) arms. And when Jake sleepily arrived, I swear Rachel screamed higher than Christine's aria in the Phantom of the Opera. To make a long story short, we went on a yarn run, bought a pie, found Laura in the blizzard, and listened to Jake's mom argue with him about how chocolatey hot chocolate should be.

But then it was time for the thing they call Junior Year. So I did it, I went to school, I picked up my schedule, I went to my classes, I sat at the same table with my same friends, I was in the same rooms and everything was different but, unbearably, it seemed like nothing had changed. And I muddled along, trying to catch up in my classes (Math and Biology seemed easy enough, but Mod Euro was a disaster), and trying to catch up socially to people that I realized were years behind me in some cases, and seemed years ahead in others.

At Chewonki, for the first time, I was with teenagers who accepted me as a fellow teenager. My age has always been important to me; I've never really felt like I could relate to my peers, but I knew that I should, so I always tried to remind myself and the people around me of what being sixteen (or fifteen) meant. But at Chewonki, I didn't really need to do that, because I could talk to all of you with more ease and comfort than I had ever felt before. Age didn't even matter because people looked past even the line between student and teacher; everybody learned from each other and acknowledged that behind the years we label ourselves by, lie a world of experiences, varying greatly in type and amount. But at my sending school that wasn't the case anymore. I had even less in common with the other students.

Alright, well since then I've gotten over myself a little bit and have been a lot more forgiving towards the others. After all, they didn't go to Chewonki, and who knows what I can learn from them in these next few months. So I kept going throughout my day and finally made it to the first rehearsal of the musical I told you all about. I introduced my brother to all of my "adult friends", and he quickly befriended them with his typical charm. There are a lot of people in the show and I'm excited to spend more time with all of them. Tuesday passed, in which I had a three-hour choir rehearsal after school (We're learning 'Heartbeats' and also 'The Beautiful People' by Marilyn Manson for the Dance Concert. It's eerie) which seemed to go by quickly. And Wednesday made everything better because Libby came to school to talk to the sophomores about Chewonki.

I swear guys it was like BLAM spotlight on me and 25m away BLAM spotlight on Libby. I dramatically turn my head to notice her, and she waves enthusiastically. Cue the violins swooping from a classical build to a folky, twangy key change, the spotlights move as she comes down the stairs and I run across the lobby for one of the best hugs I have ever had in my life. Not just because it was with Libby Irwin and she smiled a lot but because she was was real proof of Chewonki, not one of the NYC 45ers. So we had a wonderful talk and after eating a plateful of kale (yes yes yes) and rice/beans for lunch I waxed positive all over the Chewonki experience for the dubious little sophomores and kept glancing back at Libby in case she suddenly disappeared.

Unfortunately, my emotions are as the tides, and as Wednesday slipped back to the ocean I found myself stranded in the midst of a lot of wolfish high schoolers. I continued with my studies until the next day, Thursday, which brought with it a wonderful walk with an old friend in which we talked endlessly about Chewonki and her gap year WWOOFing. It also brought the worst night, worse than the Christmas Eve dinner that I walked out of, despondent, worse because I tasted a little bit of the reality of our situation; that I will not be able to return to the place that I consider home, not for a very long time. And even then, it won't be the same. It is so heartbreaking for me to realize (for I re-realize it every single day) that it's gone. During the semester I learned to stop living in the past, but now I wish every single day to be back hugging and kissing all of you, loving and laughing and feeling at home.

I keep telling myself that you can only be happy with what you have. I am facing the fact that I don't have you all so present in my life anymore. Well, I still have you; I have the memories of you, I have your skypes and emails and facebooks, but I do not have your personal touches and eye twinkles and foggy breath. I have some friends at home that I am trying to make new connections with, I have a lot of music that makes me happy, I have New York City at my disposal, but, to be frank about it, I am still deeply unhappy. Looking through this blog and after talking and talking to the NYCers, I can see how many people feel the same. We try and we try to be positive but we are still grasping just as desperately as the next person for the last bit of contentment together. And is that a good thing, or a bad thing? I'd say good- you all are what's keeping me sane right now. But we must keep going, I must keep going. And when it gets tough, I remind myself that I'll see you all soon. We are all just a phone call away from each other. I would give anything to be back at Chewonki right now, but I can't, so it's time for me to hold my breath and dive.

Love Always,

Eloise