When Memory Haunts

In Which I Reflect On One Year Ago

One year ago today, I woke up in a tent.¹

My friend Romana Stewart and I were camping in a park in Tennessee for the second Habit, Student Edition Gathering, after which both of us would be leaving the writing community.

We went out with a bang, for sure. Almost every night was spent out too late, one unintentionally at some friends’ cabin after their family had helped me when my car battery died². But the next night had been different. We’d stayed in the park until the last minute we were allowed, singing as a group in the pavilion. Multiple people brought instruments to accompany, and we all lifted our voices in song together. I don’t think I’ll ever forget when our Momerator and leader Andrea Yenne asked me to lead “The Parting Glass,” and I choked my way through simultaneous tears and laughter on the verse that says,

“But since it fell into my lot

That I should rise and you should not

I’ll gently rise and softly call

‘Goodnight, and joy be to you all!’”

Little did Mrs. Yenne know that this particular verse was part of the inspiration for a piece of lore about Immortals in my book series. To have to sing it in front of the ones who had dubbed me an Immortal…it was a bittersweet moment, laughing over a shared joke, but also weeping over the end of an era.

After that, Romana and I were invited to a friend’s campsite with a group of others. We had a bit of a laugh when we got there and realized it was us, one other girl, and then a bunch of guys. We asked ourselves if we were now just seen as “part of the guys.”

However we were seen, it was one last sweet time of friendship and fellowship, huddled around a campfire and whispering so as not to disturb the neighbors³. Finally, we began to disperse. It was a sweet end to a glorious time.

So back to the morning of June 5th, 2025, when I woke up in a tent. I was exhausted from sleeping on the ground and staying out late for four straight nights. My knee, which I’d injured a couple years ago and had never fully healed, was re-aggravated from a vigorous round of Get the Boot two days earlier. My wrist, which was already hurting from work, was bruised from a hit with a (realistically heavy) training sword. I was sad, because I knew I’d said goodbye to some friends for the last time the night before. I was going to see some of them for an extra day of unofficial activities that day, but the rest of the upcoming goodbyes weighed on my heart.

And on top of it all, the day before, I had received a text from a coworker saying that he’d been offered a promotion—a promotion we’d been competing for. There was a second position open, and I had applied for it, so I knew there was still a chance I would be promoted. But seeing him get it first, even though I knew very well it was because I was on vacation, felt like a bit of a loss.

So, to sum it all up, when the sun dawned on June 5th, 2025, I was a mess: physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It was with a more sober attitude that Romana and I greeted each other that morning. I think we’d both gone to bed crying the night before. I lay in my sleeping bag for a little longer than her, and then when she went outside to start making breakfast, I stayed in the tent, packing my things. I think I was glad of the moment alone, to really try to process what was happening.

Then my phone got a notification. An email. I was a little surprised that I had enough service to receive emails out there, so I clicked on it to see what it was…and my jaw dropped.

I had been offered the second promotion.

I stared at my phone in disbelief for a moment, then scrambled out of the tent to tell Romana the good news (if you’ve ever tried to get out of a tent in a hurry, then you’ll understand that “scrambled” is an accurate description). I sat down at the picnic table and clicked the link in the email, praying the scant cell service would be enough to accept to job.

God had mercy on my frantic prayers, and it was enough, so a few minutes later, I had officially accepted the position I had spent the past two months stressing over.

Just a few minutes later, I got a message from my manager, asking if I had seen the email. I responded that I did, and that I had accepted. She gave me her congratulations, and then I immediately texted my coworker who had also been promoted.

And so it was that I went into what had started as a bittersweet day on a pretty high note. I told a few people at the unofficial meetup later, but it wasn’t long before that excitement was drowned out.

Seeing many people from the night before reminded me that this was it. After this afternoon, it would be goodbye. Maybe forever. I soaked up every little moment, whether it was recommending books in the bookstore we visited, going on a side quest to overwhelm a small boba shop with our numbers, spotting Joel Smallbone in the mall, or humiliating ourselves in a scavenger hunt through said mall.

At the end, we stood in a circle in front of an ice cream shop in the food court, all of us dragging on the conversation as long as we could to put off the dreaded farewells. Someone started doing Cotton Eye Joe, just because, and for once in my life, I didn’t care about how many people might be watching.

But in the end, I had a four hour drive home, so I dragged Romana (and myself) away from everyone and began the sad walk to where we’d parked my car.⁴

I don’t think I have a word to describe the drive home. It was quiet at first, both of us trying to process. At last, we did start having conversations, but they were more serious ones. There was less laughter than there had been all week. As much joy as I’d had that morning over my promotion, I couldn’t think about it now, except as vaguely wondering what the future days would look like. So much had changed, all in one day. I felt like I had left behind the last of my childhood, leaving my beloved student writing forum behind in Tennessee and returning to Kentucky where a very adult management position awaited me.

When I got home, I helped Romana sort through her stuff and load her car, then she went on her way home. I went inside, and when my roommate asked me how my trip was, I said something like “I can’t talk about it yet. I need to process.”

Then I got in a hot shower, frustrated with myself because as much as I wanted to cry, for once in my life, I couldn’t. I wondered what was wrong with me, until at last, the tears came, and I bawled my eyes out. It felt good to cry and release the emotion that had been building over the past four days.

That wasn’t the first change that happened last year. Over the past few months, I’ve been constantly looking at the calendar and realizing with a shock, “Wow, on this day last year, __________ was happening.”

I’ve written before about how difficult 2025 was. It’s kind of unpleasant looking back and thinking that this day a year ago sparked so much that would happen later.

Memory is such a funny thing. It’s a beautiful gift from God, allowing us to relive the wonderful moments from the past, like walking in a line through Franklin, Tennessee, singing songs in the round, or sharing secrets about our writing and worldbuilding. But it can also bring up the bad things, like the circumstances leading up to my promotion, or the emotional roller coaster that was the later summer, or the anxiety-induced (literally) sleepless nights that came along.

And with the memory comes the emotion. It’s like experiencing it again. When I remembered that a year ago today, I was spending one last day with some of my favorite people, I smiled, remembering the joy and sharing pictures with friends who had been there. But it also hurt, because I know I may never see some of those people again. I’ve lost touch with some already.

What do you do when assaulted by memories? To be honest, I don’t know the answer. All I know is to take them for what they’re worth. Cherish the good, and give the bad to God.

I spent a good chunk of time in prayer over it today, and I realized that as sad as it can be to remember goodbyes, as sobering as it is to remember all that changed last spring, those memories work as markers, monuments of what God has brought me through.

The Lord spoke to me a lot at the end of 2025 about endings and new beginnings. I’ve written a couple posts about that. I kind of thought that when the endings happened, I wouldn’t have to think about them anymore. But that’s not how the human mind works.

So when I remember all the things that changed last year and all the pain that came with the change, I’m praying that I can see the fruit of that growth. And when painful memories come along, I praise God that He was faithful through it all.

The smaller pavilion at Henry Horton State Park, where our singalong took place. Image taken from Tennessee State Parks website, since I for some reason didn’t take any pictures while I was there.

1. I’m writing this on June 5th, the day before this will go live.

2. Advice for amateur campers: don’t leave your car door open, even when setting up your campsite.

3. More advice for amateur campers: make sure you know if there’s someone at the campsite next to you before going back late at night. Getting yelled at by a person I didn’t know was there because my light was too bright isn’t something I want to repeat.

4. Another piece of advice for amateur travelers: if you’re going to be out for an indeterminate amount of time, don’t walk everywhere you go. Imagine our surprise when we found out the parking fee had gone up to almost $50!