I don’t know if I’ve ever been independent. Sure, I’m an only child, and sure I have made my own way in the world, but there has never been a time where I wasn’t supported by an army of love, reassurance, and encouragement. I have always felt somewhat protected and sheltered from the outside world. This is who I based my person off of, I was a reflection off of those around me. Looking in retrospect, I in no way see this as a negative portrayal of who I’ve become, but instead a realization, or an awakening one might say.

On the first day of this trip as I hugged my family good-by, I felt somewhat empty. I didn’t know what to expect on the other side of the airport door. Whether my next month would be filled with treachery and a pang for returning to my comfortable bed with my dog nestled by my side, or if the next twenty-six days were going to be exactly what I needed to make myself feel fulfilled.

Right off of the plane, it started to rain. While many think that rain may be a sign of danger, or a warning, I see it as the earth giving a gentle cleanse to everything around it. Rain is a washing away of all the worries, the past, and seemed like an omen to me as I ran outside and let the hot drops of water wash over me. The rain pelted on for hours more, along the drive down to the Grand Isle. As the water-streaked windows filled my view, I saw a landscape like never before. Long trees with thin arms sprouting from mere water. Their existence was unfathomable to me as not only were they protected by this murky water, but they were green, a rarity in California landscape. Continuing down the road we saw the landscape alter into marshlands which looked like a million little islands all thriving off of the Mississippi river. It was strange to think that one mother of endless water gave birth to all of these little tufts of grass and the contents that remain inside them.

As the sun began to set, we started to approach our final destination, Grand Isle, LA. The landscape began to shift and the architecture around me felt foreign and cold, which provided me with some weariness and a sense of unease about my feelings for this whole adventure. The houses were on stilts, they were filled with color, and a type of person I had never seen before, a Southerner.

Alas we approached our humble abode, and while a sense of relief from the long days' travel washed over me, there was still an undeniable fear that gnawed at my stomach. One that ate at me until I was too tired to keep my eyes open. Upon reopening them, the windows were filled with a light glow. I stumbled out of bed, cautious not to wake anyone up, and headed for the porch. There. There it was, waiting for me, beckoning to me like a call home. The ocean stood roaring with waves that whipped back and forth from the pressure of the wind. The sun shone brightly onto the sand and casted a gentle glow upon the water's surface. The air was warm yet inviting and filled with the mist of the sea. This is what I had been waiting for all along, this was in fact, just what I needed.

Throughout the day, I was entranced by the text of The Awakening, a book I had read years before at a much younger age, and at the time felt very hard to understand and rather out of place for a seventeen year old. But now I stand here today, with the humid air lapsing against my skin, and the smell of the Louisiana salt water, surrounded by a group of individuals that I know little about, and somehow this book is enchanting, all encompassing and a complete representation of my experience. Edna, the main character, is a nuanced woman living in an outdated society. Her expectations were to care for a family, be a silent and obeying wife, and to live a rather uneducated life. But her curiosity and ideas plague her, and she goes onto have herself an “awakening.” She finds what is truly important to her, and important to her life. While she goes to great lengths of getting to a place where she feels free and unchained from her old self, including death, I feel that this trip has done that for me. I feel unchained from the society that bound me to the stress of needing to be “perfect,” at all times. As I sit here, writing this, my focus is not on anything besides myself, my discoveries, and the ever-expanding world around me.

I’m captivated by the culture, it is one that is foreign to me and unbeknown in it’s customs. In The Awakening, this culture is described as inviting and involved. It’s culture lives with a mindset that you work to live and not live to work. It’s rare that you see this kind of care free attitude and I saw my first taste when we dined at a little restaurant, frankly the towns only restaurant, The Starfish. We were greeted with a warm smile and a spirit that could make anyone feel at home. Tiffany, our waitress was one of the most interesting characters I have ever met. She was beaming with happiness and was unforgivingly just being herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a waitress disregard the outlined “duties” or “customs” of a job to fit their personality but Tiffany sure did. While she had a job, she make it her job. She truly embodied this inviting Creole culture and everything that Kate Chopin was describing.

It took me a long time to be comfortable with the mindset that Tiffany had, and I don’t know if I will ever be completely comfortable with this mindset in the work-culture that America breeds. However, I gained understanding of this feeling because for a brief moment I felt free. Understanding this feeling is like no other until you are sunning yourself on the porch of a holiday home, sinking in the breeze of the Gulf where you are perfectly nestled between the water on a small piece of unbeknown land. Here is where I learned to live life how it is meant to be lived. Free of my worries, and unphased by the possibility of the future.