Tag Archives: author

life will turn with the leaves.

I am almost down to one month. One month until I leave to start a whole new life at University. One month until I leave all of the friends I’ve grown up with over the years to meet a whole new group of people. One month until I say goodbye to my home of 18 years. One month until life turns.

And I cannot wait.

I can feel autumn in my bones, even though I’m physically stuck in the middle of a sweltering summer. It sounds strange, doesn’t it? But I feel the change on the horizon. When the leaves turn from green to rusty reds and oranges, my life will turn from familiar to totally new and maybe uncomfortable. When the breeze picks up, so shall my life. When the nights turn shorter and colder, my time here will grow distance and more into bittersweet memories. 

I am ready. I am ready for autumn weather, because I desperately hate wearing shorts. I am ready for a new life on campus, full of new faces and new things and new everything. I am ready to grow up and realize that everything here that I thought meant “everything” really meant so little in comparison. Honestly, I am ready to leave these people and these far too familiar faces. I will miss them dearly, some heaps more than others. Others I will learn never truly cared for me, and I will become better for realizing that. I am already starting to realize how superficial some of my friendships are, even though I thought them to be deep and meaningful. Isn’t it strange how easily other’s opinions of you can easily sway someone you called your best friend? Or how people expect you to pick sides? It’s crazy, that’s for sure. Anyway.

As for this town, it will grow sweeter as I am away from it longer. I will begin to appreciate the time I return to visit. I will long for reunions with the coffeeshop I seem to frequent weekly, or the annoying traffic lights that take too long, or the familiarity of it all. 

And finally, as for this life I am leaving, I will grow, grow, grow, grow. I am excited to see the person I transform into, as I get to kind of start over. I will no longer be chained to the preconceived opinions of people, or worry that lies or rumours will effect people’s judgment. I need not worry about that any longer. And that is a relief.

So, dear leaves, I hope you change very soon. Because I am ready.


coffee shop observations.

I sit here writing, not daring to stop,

For fear of seeing what’s outside my head.

– Bob Kaufman, a surrealist poet belonging to the beat generation.


Kaufman penned these lines in form of a 34 part poem called, “Jail Poems”. Kaufman belonged to the Beat Generation of poets, one of my most recent of interests. When Kaufman came up with these lines, he was in fact a prisoner in a physical jail. Trapped by metal bars and watchful eyes, he was quite literally a prisoner. 

Unlike Kaufman, I am writing in the comfort of a mellow coffee shop, with a cup of tea by my side. I am trapped by my thoughts and by the watchful eyes of curious souls. I am held captive, but not necessarily in a terrible way. You know? that made a lot more sense in my head, I promise. I’m typing away at my laptop, as the steady hum of casual conversation drifts about me. My friends often tease me and say that I’m always holed up in a coffee shop somewhere, scribbling away or typing away. I shrug, because it is true. My words are so jumbled and congested in my head that I absolutely have to let them out in some way or another. I’m afraid that I cannot do much other than write and write and write. I write because I must.

Writing gives me a clear picture of my thoughts and helps me to actually see my thoughts. It’s very therapeutic in a way. 

There are many interesting people in the coffee shop at the moment, many pouring over books or homework. A group sits in the corner, conversing and laughing hardy laughs. The kind of laughs that make me think they’ve not see eachother in a very long while. An elderly man sits across from me in an armchair, reading a J.K. Rowling book. I smile quietly, as people come and go and I continue to sit at my lonely table with my laptop in front of me. I find that I like to observe and I like to understand. That may be largely due to the fact that I am a wildly introverted person, but I think it comes from my passion for understanding other humans. We aren’t much different than we think. 

I adore my days writing in the coffee shop.


there are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.

(to quote Mr. C.S. Lewis.)

It’s hard for me to accept this sometimes. Although I may be an incredibly over ambitious person, I’m still very content with my life where it is now. I’m surrounded by incredible friends, and this small town life isn’t too terrible. I love the comfort of being able to stroll in town to my favourite coffee shop and seeing familiar faces and hear an abundance of “hello Erin!”s. 

Truthfully, even as adventurous as I am… starting a whole new life at college terrifies me. The thought of having to make new friends or finding my way about a place I really don’t know is so foreign to me. I’m going to a new place where I will only know a handful of people, much different than where I am now – where it feels like I know everyone!

Now I know no season is supposed to last forever, but I find myself wishing for “just a little more time”. I’ve tried in vain to discover just what it is that terrifies me about starting a new chapter in life. Most of my friends are absolutely ecstatic about the chance of starting over and becoming new people at their select colleges. I think that the thought of starting afresh is exciting, yet also scary. The adventurous side of me is counting down the days until move in day, but the other side of me is holding onto every precious minute I have here. See, I think that it isn’t the whole “starting over” thing that scares me…what scares me is leaving everything I’ve known here. I’ve practically grown up with most of my friends since the sixth grade. It seems odd for all of us to be partying ways.

Dont let go, said the leaf to the tree,
I dont know myself without you here with me.
But as she let me go, I knew
Our shining season now was through

Nonetheless, that is how life works out. Nothing is too permanent and I understand that at some time, I must accept the inevitable change. It’s bittersweet. I know incredible things are in store, yet it’s hard to see that. What has helped me accept that I must move on to better things are the memories that I’ve made in the past few years. Leaving and moving on does not mean forgetting. I will cling to the fond memories I’ve made as I journey on into the next phase of life.

Better things are ahead than any we leave behind
Let the sun set so a new one will rise
But always remember our time
(our time by Jane Marczewski


All of my life I’ve wanted to be that person that changes the world with simply her words. I spent countless hours dreaming and fantasizing about how I would do so. Maybe I’d write a book? Maybe I’d become a public speaker? Maybe my lyrics would touch hearts? I thought about how I might change strangers’ lives and impact the world for the better. But I never thought about how I could change those around me.

Until I found myself catching up with an old friend. The conversation was nostalgic and full of “remember when”s. We laughed about the good times and marveled over how much things have changed. Then said friend muttered something about how hard it is to escape our pasts, and how much they effect our presents and futures. I agreed with the words, “i guess it’s our demons that make us who we are.”

My friend paused, smiled, and asked if they could use that. I thought they were joking, of course, and agreed.

Months later, my words became their first tattoo. At first, I was a little shocked. And then flattered. And then embarrassed. And then shocked again. I mean… I said something that touched someone so much to get it permanently branded on their skin. My words have been immortalized on the arm of a friend who might not even be in my life twenty years from now. (though I hope so!)

How crazy is that? All my life, I’ve been searching for ways to inspire others with my words…only to have a friend find comfort and understanding in a simple sentence I blurted out. It felt odd. I’ve collected quotes and words from poets, authors, world changers and musicians in various journals or notebooks. I meticulously jot down the words of other inspiring writers in my journals, keeping them stored away for when I need them. Those words have changed me and changed how I view the world over the years, and I’ve always felt indebted to people I never even knew and never will. I’m indebted to them because of their words.

And now I’m that writer to someone else. Though it feels odd, it also feels empowering – as if I could very well take on the world with words. To quote my favourite movie ever;

“No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.” (dead poets society)

Words have more impact than we know. Are your words impacting others in a positive way?