If you’re subscribed to my monthly newsletter (Dear Kindred Spirit) or following me on Instagram, you know I recently returned to the Centennial State after spending several glorious days in Charleston, SC. What you might not know, however, are the multitude of reasons behind my trip or the beautiful chaos that ensued over the course of it. It was a mad dash to catch up on writing this week, but now that I can breathe, I’m excited to fill you in on my recent adventures and inspired dreams.

Before Charleston

Late last summer, shortly after graduating from Praxis, I met up with Sheridan, a fellow Praxian who had just started her apprenticeship and was already killing it. Though we come from very different backgrounds (i.e. she was lifting twice my bodyweight while I was sporting bruised ribs from partnering in ballet rehearsals), we bonded over our mutual belief in alternative education, as well as a perfectly healthy obsession with stalking pretty neighborhoods. (We stayed on the sidewalk, okay?) Sheridan’s genuine personality and empathetic spirit were contagious, and rather than rolling her eyes at my fear that I was growing out of Colorado, she told me she understood. Plus, she didn’t think I was crazy for refusing to work on soul-destroying projects and pouring myself into writing fairytales instead.

I think we call this “insta-friendship” now.

Before we parted ways–she to prepare for her upcoming move to Charleston and I to berate the never-ending supply of traffic cones on the way back to my house–we made a joke about Praxis housing. What if I moved to Charleston, too? What if we could be roommates? What if we could face East Coast driving together? (That’s right–I said it.)

But as the weeks wore on, I realized… the joke was more plausible than it was crazy. So plausible, in fact, that when Sheridan started sending me house listings, I was more excited than I was surprised.

The Plan

When it became clear that I was addicted to looking at pictures of Charleston homes, I came to the conclusion that I needed to visit South Carolina. Soon.

Sheridan flew in at Christmastime to visit her family and friends, and we decided to meet in Denver. We walked around the Christkindl Market for a while before heading into Mellow Mushroom to avoid freezing to death. I pitched her my idea, she told me where to find cheap plane tickets, and we were golden.

Airport Survival 102

Preface: Until last week, I had not been on an airplane in six years. And I had never been on one alone.

I had no idea I had to take the food out of my backpack to get through security. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have dumped an entire box of granola bars into the bottom of it (What? I was conserving space for the bag of chocolate).

As it was, there were at least three people watching me dump sugar-coated oats into a plastic bin at four o’ clock in the morning on January 23.

My first flight of the day carried me from COS to DFW. The guy on my left said, “It is too early to be alive right now,” and promptly fell asleep/became my spirit animal. Yes, I did post that on Twitter.

With hours to spare, I navigated through the city that is DFW and planted myself in Terminal A. I then got lost in The Girl Who Drank the Moon until it occurred to me that flight blah blah blah to CHS should’ve been boarding. I reorganized my backpack, yawned way more dramatically than I needed to and flagged down a lady who looked like she knew things. She proceeded to tell me that flight blah blah blah to CHS was already boarding in Terminal C. I showed her my boarding pass, which said nothing about C, and she told me to run.

I had 15 minutes to run halfway across Terminal A, catch the tram to Terminal C, run halfway across C and plant myself behind another guy who missed the terminal change memo. I thought my lungs were exploding. They were, in fact, not.

By the time I made it to CHS, my shoulder was sore from lugging around a backpack all day, and I was pretty sure I’d twisted my ankle at some point during the DFW marathon. But I rescued my luggage from baggage claim and squealed really, really quietly because I WASN’T DEAD.

Charleston

I don’t even know where to start this section. It’s all just one big, happy memory in my head.

Sheridan picked me up from CHS, we acknowledged how crazy great it was that we were actually in Charleston together, and then we headed to Praxis HQ.

Now, you have to understand: I had been looking at pictures of HQ for months, contemplating the fact that so many of my heroes show up there every day and launch careers as only superhuman people can.

So, when I arrived on the Praxis campus for the first time, nearly two years after applying to the program, it was like entering another reality. Very surreal. Very exciting. I managed not to squeal this time and let my brain explode instead.

For the first time, I found myself in the same room as Hannah, one of the program advisors who was a huge help during my apprenticeship, as well as Lolita and Drake, two fellow participants. I don’t think I’d ever been so proud to be part of a group of individuals. Don’t even get me started on how fantastic these people are–online and IRL.

EOD at Praxis HQ depends on the workload, so I had lots of time to chill, write, read, eat Mellow Mushroom pizza and revel in the fact that this was my life for the next week.

At Sheridan’s house, I ate a Pop-Tart and finally crashed after 20 hours of nonstop life.

On Thursday morning, after successfully hitting the snooze button at least ten times, we made it to Sheridan’s favorite coffee shop and then back to Praxis HQ. By then, I’d stuffed in at least three Pop-Tarts, and Sher had realized that my eating habits were not exactly ballerina standard, and we’d both elected to just roll with it.

Drake suggested an afternoon trip to the beach, so he, Sheridan and I skipped lunch and went to Sullivan’s Island instead. Because the beach is always a good idea.

Ugh, take me back.

My first real meal of the trip was duck grilled cheese, per Sheridan’s recommendation. It had three pieces of bread. I was in heaven. Plus, I got to talk about history and reading and life with Hannah until my bookworm heart was so full, I thought it would burst.

On Friday, Lolita and I grabbed lunch at Butcher & Bee, an adorable restaurant with a rotating menu that uses local ingredients. After months of messaging, it was wonderful to chat with her one-on-one and hear about her life as a transplant in Charleston. Have I mentioned how much I love the Praxis community? Yes? Well, don’t forget it.

This is where the happiness starts to blur, and I get lost in a whirlwind of I-laughed-so-hard-I-cried and how-many-Pop-Tarts-have-I-eaten-today. This must have been the night I met Sheridan’s friend Dennis over FaceTime and discovered her out-of-context quotes thread on Twitter. Yeah. That would explain it. There was also a dessert bar involved, and seriously, why doesn’t every state have dessert bars?!

On Saturday, Sheridan and I took a mini road trip to see the Angel Oak Tree, which is just as majestic as it sounds.

Then, after a quick trip to Kiawah Island, we got lost in the suburbia of West Ashley, stalked some more pretty neighborhoods, and headed to Hannah’s house for dinner. Then hit the dessert bar again. Because I have that effect on the sugar intake of otherwise sugar-indifferent people.

On Sunday, a whole group of us got together for coffee before Sher and I stalked even more pretty houses in Mount Pleasant. And, for the first time all week, we managed to hit downtown during daylight hours and got lost in the beauty and history of the French Quarter. That’s about when I realized how hard it was going to be to leave Charleston the following day.

Nevertheless, I packed, and so did Jet, the resident cat. He made it very clear that I should stay. I almost let him convince me.

On Monday, the Praxis execs returned from business trips, and I was able to meet still more of my heroes in person. I’m still so wowed by the number of times I heard, “You’re welcome here anytime.” But it was when Sheridan dropped me off at the airport and said, “Come home soon!” that I realized how attached I am to this place and how ready I am to make it mine.

After Charleston

Let’s just bypass the part where my flight to DFW was delayed twice and I had 15 minutes to make my connection. Again.

As I look back on this trip, fully aware that my whirlwind memories are causing me to leave stuff out, I am one thing and one thing only: joyful. I am so blown away by how this whole situation came together, from meeting Sheridan to having my delayed baggage delivered to my house on Tuesday morning. There is not one thing about this trip that I would change, and I’m so excited–now more than ever–to pick up my life and the lives of the fictional people in my head and settle in Charleston. It won’t be all dessert bars and sea breezes, and it certainly won’t be forever. I wasn’t wired that way. But I’ll be with my tribe, and I have more peace about that than I do about what I’m going to eat for breakfast tomorrow morning (Pop-Tart count: 0).

Bring on the summer.

Sullivan’s Island photos by Sheridan
Dessert bar photo by Hannah
Dramatic pose by Drake
Lolita, we’re taking pictures when I come back