One mild panic attack later, and I know I’m officially back in Provo. I’m home, but home feels a little different now. That word feels different. Maybe because the world feels different now.

Part of me wants to maintain the wild facade that Jeremy and I suddenly became multi-millionaires that could whisk across the country on a financial whim, but the truth is that this summer was partly financed by a lot of people’s kind and generous gifts.

• Florida was a gift from my parents.
• Hawaii was a gift from Jeremy’s parents.
• Seattle was our gift to one another.
• And, if I’m honest, New York was a gift to myself.

And in total, the gifts combined to build the intrepid summer that an adolescent reader pines for. The kind of summer that builds and defines. The kind of summer with wild romance and self-discovery.

In Florida, in effort to shed the seriousness of being an adult, I allowed myself to grow down a little. I found my inner child and gave her a hug. I retraced my steps through the midnight line at Borders Bookstore, waiting for Harry Potter and the (Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix, Halfblood Prince, Deathly Hallows) to come out. And I grew down a little further, all the way back to a diapered two-year-old me, sitting on a blue little box of diaper wipes and (more or less) patiently waiting for my mom to rewind The Little Mermaid. In Florida, I found the gift of “Giddy.”

In New York, I transitioned. Tenderly, gratefully, I put Giddy Florida on the memory shelf and embraced maturity. Admittedly, I don’t know much about “Mature Me.” She’s new, and still germinating. While I’ve officially been a twenty-something for about five years now, I finally felt it: the vibrancy of youth without the angst of it. Where I wasn’t really looking, I stumbled on dormant seeds of myself.   I unburied the self-confidence seed, thirsty and withered. In New York, I replanted my rehydrated self-confidence somewhere between the cracks in the concrete between 120th and 121st street. In New York gave me the gift of self-esteem.

In Hawaii, I remembered the seed and added water to it; I’d learned I could be bold and brave, so I practiced. In Hawaii, I left the Shire, and I forced myself to get in the water. I didn’t even bring Water Wings. I leapt and I swam. In Hawaii, I opened up adventure, and I followed where it led me.

In Seattle, I opened up the kind of Romance you think you want when you watch a movie about Sleeplessness, but I learned three years of committed care and self-sacrifice is a more nuanced, rewarding kind of love. I learned that even after you brush off the novelty, a relationship with roots is the kind that will grow the tallest. Up high in a tree, Jeremy gave me the most beautiful of presents: commitment, patience, kindness, love. The kind of romance adolescent me couldn’t fathom, couldn’t imagine because adolescents don’t realize how good love can be. In Seattle, I got the gift of companionship. The Self that I found has an eternal friend.

In Seattle, I opened up the kind of Romance you think you want when you watch a movie about Sleeplessness, but I learned three years of committed care and self-sacrifice is a more nuanced, rewarding kind of love. I learned that even after you brush off the novelty, a relationship with roots is the kind that will grow the tallest. Up high in a tree, Jeremy gave me the most beautiful of presents: commitment, patience, kindness, love. The kind of romance adolescent me couldn’t fathom, couldn’t imagine because adolescents don’t realize how good love can be. In Seattle, I got the gift of companionship. The Self that I found has an eternal friend.