It was not that my studies had completely lost all interest for me. Rather, I’d begun expanding my horizons, no longer tethered down by the need to “do well in school.” In receiving my acceptance letter, I was liberated from the fear of failing a lifelong goal that I have often pursued in complete blindness. I had arrived at the finish line, even if that line wasn’t where I had expected it to be. And now, I could go back and explore in depth all of the things that were delegated to the periphery back when “school came first.”

I could rediscover old hobbies, or take up cooking; get back into shape, read books on Eastern philosophy. I have the time to wonder a little (or a lot) if I could have more thoroughly enjoyed my time, even if doing so would have potentially compromised those shiny numbers on my transcript. Would I still have reaped the same rewards? What does sacrificing for the future mean now that I’ve reached “the future?”

While the time I have now may be spent looking back into the past, it’s also available for looking forward to the future. Come fall, planting season will begin all over again. I have the chance to make new connections, widen my intellectual breadth, and take on every opportunity given me. This intermediate space I inhabit now has allowed me to map out my path, to make the most of what comes next.

Better still, I will go forward knowing how not to burn the toast every time.