Live Free or Die
08.24.24. Captured by Author
Whether you’ve known me my entire life or simply stumbled across my blog, I’m happy you’re here!
Live Free or Die… sound familiar? For all 23 years of my life, I’ve grown up in the great state of New Hampshire. Some know it as the Granite State, others the 603, for me, I call it home. Although I was actually born in Lowell, MA (no, I’m not a Masshole by any means), I consider myself a New Hampshire native. I grew up in the city of Nashua in a beautiful home that my father built for us to create endless childhood memories in. Little did we know what the future truly held, not only for our home but for our family, too.
In the early stages of my childhood, my days consisted of attending my Greek Orthodox Church every Sunday, playing “Around the World” basketball with my younger brother, Dean, and learning how to ride my bike with my dad on the Nashua Rail Trail. Each day after elementary school, I looked forward to spending time outside. I was absolutely infatuated with my backyard: the tall trees, birds chirping, and, of course, adding updates to our childhood chalk city. Life at home felt like a whimsical adventure to me, feeling safe surrounded by the arms of Mother Nature and my beautiful brick house.
During the school year, we were like any other family, shuffling to make it to soccer practice, dance classes, and piano lessons. As soon as summer came along, though, we would make the drive to Rye, NH, where we stayed along Wallis Sands Beach. The NH coastline isn’t large, but for what it is, it’s breathtaking. I was lucky enough to recognize its beauty as a young kid. I’d spend my days waiting for the sun to go down before heading off to climb the rocks at the end of the beach, search for starfish, and ultimately watch the sunset over the crashing waves.
02.24.24. Captured by Author
Every summer day was similar in the most blissful way. My brother and I spent afternoons boogie-boarding our hearts away and competing in sand castle contests. Eventually, my Mom would make us come inside to shower and get ready for dinner. My family would eat outside on the deck, listen to my dad’s “Yacht Rock” station, and enjoy each other’s company until the sun went down. As I grew older, my days in Rye turned into long walks on the beach, searching for any sea glass and gazing out at the horizon beyond me. To this day, I find myself upon the same rocks I climbed when I was just 8 years old, wondering what’s left of this place and all these memories.
The beautiful thing about growing up in New Hampshire for me wasn’t the sunny beach days and mountainous sunsets (although those were nice too), but rather, it was the place that stimulated my imagination. With every walk in the woods, I crafted tales of fairies dancing among the trees, as I’d similarly do, swimming on the coast, wishing I could befriend every sea creature there ever was. Now, I find myself sitting on this grey couch in Orlando, Florida, working a job I never imagined for myself and slowly figuring out my way in this world. If sharing part of my life with you provides even a fraction of comfort, support, or relatability about discovering yourself in your 20s and understanding your own history, then I’m happy you’re here with me.
