Carolyn Grimm is currently a senior at Good Hope Country Day School. An avid writer, she often draws inspiration from the world around her, not only for her writing but also for her life. Her essay goes into detail about how she stays optimistic by appreciating the little things, even during tough times. Life is defined mostly in big, momentous occasions - in sweet sixteens, in first kisses, in category five hurricanes. But in the space between the milestones are small, quiet moments - the nuances of color in someone’s eyes, the hastily scribbled skeletons of would-be poems in margins, the ringing out of a guitar long after the final chord has been strummed. These little wonders are the ones worth living for. And that’s what I believe in - little wonders. I believe in hot tea on rainy evenings and in laughing so hard that your stomach hurts. I believe in magic, in the beauty of contours in shadows, in the joy of drinking a cup of coffee on Sunday morning. I believe in details and wide-eyed curiosity, and, most of all, I believe in never passing up the opportunity to dance in the rain. There’s a lot that’s wrong with the world. If you don’t take the time to find beautiful things in dark places, you’ll spend your life thinking that the world is an ugly place. Take, for example, Hurricane Maria - a storm that upended trees, powerlines, roofs, and, in a way, my life. Despite us being a thousand miles away after the storm, our neighbors tried to kick us out of our house and filed a lawsuit against my mom’s coworker. That month following Maria was spent in freefall, not sure whether or not I was moving back to the states, or if I still had a home waiting for me if I were to return to St. Croix. On top of that, my mom was struggling with some health problems. The whole situation was, in a word, awful. Coming back was a tough transition. I didn’t sleep in my own bed for over a month after my return, instead living in hotel rooms that reeked of cigarettes and overpriced rentals that were 45 minutes away from school. But despite the ugly facts of my reality, I felt lucky - being in a less-than-ideal situation pulled into focus all of these incredible moments of beauty that I hadn’t noticed before. I watched sunrises from our condo out east - took pictures of rainbows and the day’s first rays of light, sat out on the porch and listened to the distant sounds of the ocean. I soaked in the music playing in town as we walked back to our tiny hotel room - watched as people laughed and danced and found a sense of normalcy in the wake of the storm. I took a moment to stop and stare at the things I found beautiful - blue-tarped roofs were a bitter reminder of what was lost, but the people who came together to fix the wreckage were a quiet reminder of what was found. Hurricane Maria made me a believer in the power of noticing and appreciating little wonders. Now I know that there is beauty in all the places that light touches, and even in those where there is only darkness.
