Taking A Gap Semester - On Change and Gratitude

Written by Emily P. Spring ‘21

This afternoon, as I carried my backpack and paddle up the grassy trail to the Hill House, I noticed how much greener the trees had become over the five days we were gone. What were recently shy, grey buds had suddenly burst from their shells in a colorful ceremony welcoming the coming spring. How strange it was, I thought, that so much could change over such a brief period of time. 

Much like the blossoming trees, I have experienced change throughout my time at Glen Brook. Not the type of change that crafts you into a completely new and different person, but the type of change that illuminates aspects of yourself that have been buried over time. I entered Glen Brook with the intention of “changing myself for the better.” Out with the old, in with the new. That which I have emerged with is far more valuable. I have come to better understand that drastic changes can’t occur overnight. Getting to know myself, my values, and what impassions me is a lengthy process that I may never fully complete. Rather than expecting to emerge from this program as a different person, I have come to appreciate the small victories that occur as progress is made. Even the regressions that make me human. I know that my journey is fluid, full of twists and turns, and I appreciate it for what it is.

I pondered quite a bit about change as I drifted down the Connecticut River in a canoe with all my belongings squeezed into a dry bag in its basin. As I belted the chorus of “Proud Mary” with ten enthusiastic voices around me, I imagined walking into the dining room and seeing everyone’s masked faces for the first time. Anxious small talk had morphed into shameless singing in a matter of days and I could not feel more lucky to have witnessed it. People who were complete strangers to me in February had now become my family. Like the song proclaims, we were “rolling on the river” without a care in the world, simply happy to be in each other’s off-key company.

If Glen Brook has taught me anything, it’s the value of a moment. Every night of our canoe trip, our instructor would read aloud a portion of the novel “Tuck Everlasting” until, by the end of the trip, we had finished it. The book questioned what one would do if they could live forever, along with whether or not they would even want that in the first place. By the conclusion of the story, we had almost unanimously decided that we wouldn’t want to live forever, that we wouldn’t want to stay at Glen Brook forever. Doing so would make the moments we have enjoyed here less special. As dreadful as it is that my time at Glen Brook is coming to a close, knowing this makes me value the moments here and the connections I’ve made so much more. Accepting that life and the experiences within it are finite allows me to feel more present in this incredibly special place, since I know I won’t live here forever.

Every night before dinner, my housemates and I circle up to express gratitude for the things, places and beings in our lives. This practice of expressing gratitude is ingrained into the fabric of Glen Brook, seeping its way into every possible avenue. From the food we eat to the land we live on, we’re encouraged to give thanks to everything that sustains us in our time here. This practice is one of the main things I plan to take home with me. I’ve found that taking time out of every day to think about what I’m grateful for not only helps to remind me of my core values, but also to show those around me how much I love and care for them. Tonight, as I write this reflection on the couch in our living room with three days left in the program, I am grateful for Glen Brook. For the people, the place, and all they have taught me, I am forever grateful for Glen Brook.