The Summer of Yes

by Courtney Walsh

I haven’t seen or done anything notable since I was a kid, and then, only because I had no choice. I was dragged along by parents who were much freer and more open to adventure than I am. Unlike them, or maybe because of them, I crave stability. Security. Predictability. I learned the value of those things the hard way.

Nothing comes without a cost, young lady, and only you can decide if you’re willing to pay it.”

She might be quirky and even a little wacky, but she loves me fiercely. And just because I’ve decided to take my life in a direction that makes no sense to her doesn’t mean she can’t understand me anymore. She is still my mother.

I can’t look at her because if I do, every emotion I’ve been holding in will come flooding out like a dam breaking. That’s how it’s always been with her. She’s artsy and hooty and granola and a little too in tune with her daughter.

I realize that my typical “I can do it myself” attitude has caused someone I love a lot of grief.

Independent doesn’t have to mean alone, right?

Growing up, I was always a bit . . . different. I never thought of myself as odd, but looking back on it now, I think I might’ve been. I lived in the world of my imagination, and for the most part, the other kids would’ve rather played in the real world. I was constantly making things up, acting out imaginary TV interviews, sketching out scenes for plays I would act out in my head. I liked my world. And because my parents were both creatives, they let me live there.

Zeke!

If something wasn’t going right, I could yell, “Plot twist!” and change it all. Not so in real life. Real life needs a Ctrl+Z.

It’s nice not to be alone. And it’s nice to be taken care of. I’ve been DIYing my life for years. And, I’m realizing, backing myself into a very lonely corner.

We were like little birds, clamoring for more, and Mom never said no. How did she do that? And more importantly, how did she raise a daughter who almost exclusively tells herself no? Short answer: she didn’t. I’m the one who changed.

“The universe sends disruptors along when we’ve gotten into a pattern that’s too comfortable,”

you get to decide what kind of life you want to live.”

When did I lose that sense of wonder? A memory stings me from the inside, like I swallowed a bee. I know exactly when. Words have so much power.

It’s so countercultural. She lives her life like a rock in the rapids, letting the tumultuous rush of the race of life flow right on by.

I’d done my best to make it work—did I, though?—but society lies to women when it says they can have it all. A family, a career, success at home and success in the workplace. You can’t. At least not all at the same time.

I’m intrigued by this idea of hers, but I’m not sure how to say so. I don’t like to go along with other people’s plans. Usually, plans are not good unless I’ve thought of them myself.

“That’s a very broad generalization.” I shrug. Because I really don’t care. I make no apologies for having big opinions. Most of the time, I’m right.

“I like that I don’t have to guess what you’re thinking. I also like that you’re not afraid to say what you want. It’s refreshing. Most of the people I work with are either sucking up or shutting up.”

“People never tell me what they really think, and I can’t stand it. I don’t want a bunch of sycophants. If an idea is terrible, I want someone to tell me so.”

Just say what you mean—I don’t have time to keep guessing!”

I’m extremely comfortable when it’s me calling the shots, me making decisions, me in control. But things that are out of my control—flying, waves in the ocean, crowds, new places, lots of people—I avoid them because I’m afraid of not being in control, and I’m afraid of the unexpected.

It’s not work that’s kept me from living my life. It’s fear. Work was just my excuse.

that’s my life in a nutshell. I’m an observer. Not an active participant.

I’m struck by how long it’s been since I’ve heard my own voice. It’s so easy to silence.

Events where people go to see and be seen. In my past life (only, like, a few weeks ago), if I’d been invited to such a gathering, I wouldn’t have gone. They’re not my people. I would’ve had major impostor syndrome. I’m wittier on paper. More interesting via email. I wouldn’t be able to hold anyone’s attention long enough to have a single conversation. I’m realizing that fear was getting a lot of playing time on my team. Time to ride the bench, buddy.

I was worried what others would think, so I walked faster. I have a real hard time occupying my own space. I don’t want to do that anymore.

“I suppose you think there’s one person for everyone, don’t you?” I feel like I have to defend my position. “Well . . . yeah. There should be. Someone who’s just as messed up as you are, who is willing to love you, even though you’re weird.”

It’s strange. Georgina does kind things in an unkind way. I might be filling in the blanks—again—but it’s as though she’s created a persona for herself, not letting the real Georgina Tate show through. Like it’ll mess with the public perception of her, even though technically nobody would know but me.

Youth is wasted on the young, according to George Bernard Shaw. He also went on to say that the young people of his day were “brainless, and don’t know what they have.” Some days I couldn’t agree more.

People don’t leave quickly, but they do leave suddenly. It’s the pot and the frog and the boiling water. You have no idea your relationship is slowly dying. And then, suddenly, they were gone. And I was alone.

I have to get up before the sun and sit here. Thinking.” I frown. “You don’t like to think?” “I don’t like to dwell.”

“I am,” I admit. “Going through something. It’s not a crisis, and it’s not crazy, but it is something. I feel like I’m waking up.” I take another drink. “I’m looking at what I’ve been doing, what I’ve been working toward, and I’m realizing that none of it really matters. None of it excites me.”

“Listen,” she says. “I think you have to find the things that fulfill you. Energize you. No matter what life you make for yourself, find some margin for those kinds of things.”

“You’ll never be happy if you listen to what everyone else says about you, Kelsey. It’s what you say about you that matters.”

“It’s a wild and precious life, Kelsey. If you have something that sets your soul on fire, you have a responsibility to chase that thing.”

We’re off course, but I choose not to mind.

When the pressures from work or the rigors of life disappear, there are still plenty of other things rushing in to try to fill that void. Normally, for me, it’s worry. When did that happen? How did that happen?

I stopped seeking wonder and started seeking stability. I leaned into a practical, logical side, one that needed a steady paycheck and a stable job.

Most days I work. Most nights too. I have no social life, and even if I did, I’m pretty sure I’d still choose staying in with takeout and Netflix over going out and socializing.

where one lives so often determines how one lives.

The conversation has lasted longer than I had hoped, and now it’s settled into that moment where the feeling-each-other-out and small-talk icebreakers are slowly dissolving. It’s here when two people who just met start actually talking to one another.

Saying yes to simple pleasures might be even more important to me than saying yes to big things. After all, it’s the little moments that make a life.

I look for convenience, not connection. Ravi always says I’m hard to know. I’m starting to think it’s because I never really spend the time to let people in. Closing myself off. I wonder if that’s more fear? Fear of getting hurt? Fear of being known? Fear of a real relationship?

“No response,” Georgina says after what I’m guessing is a solid twenty seconds of me silently having a full-on conversation with myself in my own head. “Interesting.”

Out here, on the water, I start to realize I’m capable. I’m capable of more than I think—and definitely more than I’ve let myself do up to this point.

it’s fun to try something I’ve never done before and wonder if I could ever become proficient at it.

This thing I could never master is what he was born to do. Connect.

there’s just something about a lighthouse. A single light can cut straight through the darkness and guide a lost sailor home. How powerful.

They stopped responding to my half-hearted apologies, and I exited their lives for good. For their good.

I’m very much a capable, independent woman, but even I can appreciate when a man is being chivalrous,