A Love Story
by Mayim Richman
Honorable Mention in Zinc’s 2022 College Essay Contest
I woke up with the sun and threw open my tarp, still damp from the previous night’s rain. The rushing of the waterfall reminded me that I hadn't heard another person’s voice in 46 hours. I added a hat and scarf to three layers of fleece pajamas and warmed my fingertips on the small flame of my camping stove. I stirred hot chocolate with my makeshift spoon—a King-Size Tootsie Roll.
I was in the second month of a semester-long program in Vermont called The Mountain School. We had been preparing for weeks, learning knots to tie up tarp shelters, how to keep food away from bears, and tricks to stay warm on a cold April night. My classmates and I were nervous to be alone in the woods, and some even opted out of the four-day “solo.” Despite having never been alone for even one day, I was excited for the challenge.
In New York City’s East Village where I live, I’m surrounded by people and sounds of bustling neighborhoods. I share a bedroom and bunk bed with my sister, and along with our parents, we navigate a 600 square-foot apartment. In rare moments by myself, I would make plans with friends or connect with them online. I thought being alone meant being lonely, so I avoided it at all costs.
As I lay in my hammock sipping my hot chocolate, I realized that I had spent so much time developing relationships with other people that I had neglected the most important relationship of all: the one with myself. So I decided to see where my internal compass might take me. I wandered down to the waterfall and swirled my hand in the white foam pooling at the bottom of the ten-foot drop. I used tree-identifying techniques we learned in class to recognize the diamond-shaped bark of a White Ash tree that had fallen into the stream. I spent the afternoon reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance to the trees. When I became aware of my hunger, I sliced apples and carrots into delicate ribbons and ate them slowly. Our teachers had told us not to expect an epiphany in the woods, but as I crawled into my sleeping bag that night, I did feel different. I felt like I was falling in love with myself.
Returning to in-person school this fall, I threw myself into schoolwork, friends, and soccer. I joined seven clubs and was busier than ever. A few weeks in, I felt something missing. I wanted to feel like I did that day, talking to trees and meditating by the stream. I realized I needed to reconnect with myself.
Soon, I got my chance.
During a soccer game, heads collided, and I got a concussion. My doctor advised me to stay home for two weeks and avoid using my brain. Before my time in the woods, I would have been terrified at the prospect, but now I was excited to turn it into an urban solo. I sat on my fire escape to people-watch. I noticed shadows from my plant’s leaves on the wall and remembered to water them. I wrote letters to myself and learned how to sew. Despite missing school and friends and the last soccer games of my high school career, I was loving being with myself.
Luckily concussions don’t come around often, but what I took from that experience is that my internal compass is still strong. Now, whether I am at school, work, or with friends, I pause, check in, and ask myself how I can turn this moment into something more. Doing this makes me feel like I did that day at the waterfall; excited to be me and ready for anything. I am heading into this next chapter of my life knowing that wherever I am I can always go on a solo.