When you were eighteen, you applied for a study abroad program in Italy. On the day you received the acceptance letter, there was no one home. You wanted to call someone to celebrate, but couldn't reach anyone. All that excitement and anticipation was bottled up inside, and you felt like you could fly.
But this was long before the days of social media -- long before the days of email even.
So you sat at your desk in the dormer of your attic bedroom, with tortilla chips and salsa, dipping and crunching, dreaming and planning, having a celebration solo.
This morning, twenty-some years later, you complete a big thing.
A really big thing.
And you feel like celebrating.
But there's no one home.
And though you could shout it from the rooftops at any number of social media sites, you think you'd rather celebrate solo.
So you sit at the kitchen table with some homemade pita chips and tzaziki, dipping and crunching, dreaming and planning, and feeling very much like your eighteen-year old self.
But this was long before the days of social media -- long before the days of email even.
So you sat at your desk in the dormer of your attic bedroom, with tortilla chips and salsa, dipping and crunching, dreaming and planning, having a celebration solo.
This morning, twenty-some years later, you complete a big thing.
A really big thing.
And you feel like celebrating.
But there's no one home.
And though you could shout it from the rooftops at any number of social media sites, you think you'd rather celebrate solo.
So you sit at the kitchen table with some homemade pita chips and tzaziki, dipping and crunching, dreaming and planning, and feeling very much like your eighteen-year old self.
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