Sunny San Diego

By: Mikayla Boyd, Editor-in-Chief

Before I embarked on a plane for the first time, headed to the other side of the country, I could never have anticipated the impact that it would have on my life. I felt like the world suddenly opened up to me through my experience, and the way I viewed change had, well, changed. The growth of my world didn’t take away from the beauty of my familiar places, as I worried it would. Instead, it enriched who I am.

As soon as I took off, an odd sense of peace washed over me. I watched myself become surrounded by clouds for the first time. I watched Buffalo’s intricate thruways and beautiful neighborhoods shrink. The radius of familiar places became unrecognizable as we climbed. While the places I knew shrank well into oblivion, I was met with new places and experiences. Those became part of my world too, and suddenly my world was so much bigger and grew exponentially. 

With each foot the plane climbed, another concern rolled off my shoulders. My mind fluttered from one thought to another in the same way a dragonfly darts about guilelessly. I thought about how I could become a new person for these three days, and how much my life would change and feel different. Excitement was met with nervousness– how would I change? How different would the world seem? I was unsure, but I was excited at the same time. Those questions would be answered in due time. 

The plane headed to San Diego was during nighttime, and a storm graced us as we propelled through the sky. Our plane was going through rain and lightning, yet it was so quiet in the cabin. I snagged a window seat for the first time and stared out in awe at the stormy sky. The constant flashing light reflecting on the wing of the plane seemed to ground me and simultaneously put me in a trance. I let my mind wander entropically, with my thoughts having no coherent link. Usually, my mind never quiets from worries. At this moment, it was silent. The captain’s calm and confident voice overhead brought me back to reality as the flight was approaching its end. A smooth landing later, I had made it to the West Coast. 

I made my way to the La Jolla shore, knowing I was about to see a new ocean and what felt like a new corner of the earth. Boutiques and restaurants lined the winding streets, lighting up the disappearing orange sky. In between the buildings, I searched for a hint of blue ocean, yet at the same time, I didn’t want to ruin it by seeing only a sliver as the first sighting. I wanted to see all of it, all at once– my heart raced. I was so excited to see the vastness of the largest ocean in the world. It held so much significance for me, like it would change me somehow. We hiked our way down the hill until our eyes met the Pacific Ocean, which seemed to swallow the sun. I felt like I was standing at the edge of the world— I had finally made it to the ocean. It didn’t feel real. As I stood at the edge of this vast ocean, it felt like I was standing at the edge of the world, metaphysically too. What did this mean for me? Was I really a different person now? How was I changed? I thought I would feel so different, and I did. But I still felt like me at the same time. I couldn’t really articulate what I was feeling at that moment. Instead of being the talker I usually am, I became a listener. I observed what everybody else had to say about how they were feeling in hopes that their words would help me elicit the nameless and unknown emotions I was feeling. 

On our last night, my friends and I gathered around over ice cream and milkshakes. When we first sat down, we had lighthearted chats. Some left throughout the night, but six of us remained until about one in the morning. Hours later, we were listening to our seniors talk about how fast their four years flew by and how much they’ve changed. We listened intently to their stories and tears peppered our faces. Our human experience felt especially beautiful at that moment. Suddenly, my emotions started to make sense. Their conversation helped me realize what I was feeling too– about this trip, about who I am, and about how my world changed. 

My nervousness before my endeavor arose from my belief that I would become a different person altogether from my travels. I didn’t. The me I was before didn’t technically exist– I now knew and experienced many things I hadn’t before – but I was still me. Listening to my friends, who I have witnessed grow over the years I knew them, explain how much they’ve changed, made me realize that I, too, am changing. On that trip, my world changed a lot– it grew, and I discovered a lot more about the world I live in and how different it can be. But most of all, I changed. I realized that change is what you make it– it can be good, bad, or indifferent. Once, I was scared of change and how the future was so uncertain. Now I chase and embrace it.