I Plan To...

  In first grade, my teacher sat us all down on the play mat and said we had an important discussion to talk about. One question : What do you want to be when you grow up? There were countless options plastered on the wall like policemen, doctors or teachers. Then there was a blank sheet of paper on the wall which said “I Plan To…” It was a prompt which we all had to write on.

Only being 6, I didn’t think too much of it. I couldn’t think of anything so I just copied my desk partner and wrote a ballerina. Which is kind of ironic because I’m the world's worst dancer, but we’re not going to get into that today. I figured that I had 12 more years to fill in those 3 little dots. Those dots which represented what I planned to do with my future. 

  My freshman year I was presented with the same question, only the teachers this time didn’t let me copy off my desk partner. We all were peppered with these questions about college and what the hell we were going to do with our lives. So, I did make plans. I planned what my graduation would be like or how I would feel when I got the acceptance email from UC Berkeley. In my head, senior Caylin was a completely different person from freshman Caylin. I assumed that she knew what she was going to do with her future, that she was going to fill in those dots. At 14, I thought every 18 year old had their stuff together. 

  So here I am, 12 years later graduating. Through high school, I did try to fill in the answer to that prompt “I plan to…”. You see every dot had a plan, a goal and for good measure, a plan B. I thought I had everything planned down to each dot. Those plans included graduating, attending college and pursuing my dream job. But the universe had other plans, with her messy hands she spilled ink all over the page, erasing my hard work. Now there's no more dots or plans to follow. Because neither first grade or freshman Caylin planned for a freaking global pandemic. 

  With no more plans or dots to follow, it's terrifying because I thought 18 year old Caylin would have at least some sort of plan, but now I’m 18 year old Caylin…. and I don't know what to do. Fun fact: just because you turn 18 doesn’t change you into an adult overnight. So, with no more dots and my senior year suddenly finished, I have to start writing my own destiny. The dots were placeholders for an unknown future that always seemed so far away, but now I have to take the quill from the universe's hand and start writing my future. This quill in my hand seems so uncomfortable and unfamiliar because for the first time in my life it’s completely my own story to write. 

  A huge part of me wants those dots back. Those plans, those placeholders of a future someone else wrote for me, or a career my desk partner told me to write down when I couldn't think of anything. But I know that this is growing up, growing up is accidently writing a part of your story where you made some questionable decisions then crossing out those sentences and to keep on writing. Growing up is filling in those dots with wild, adventurous and embarrassing stories.

12 years ago I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life and I still don’t really know. I thought if I planned everything out, I’d feel more certain for my future. But the universe has a sense of humor, and now I would tell little adorable toothless 6 year old Caylin that you don’t have to fill in every dot of your life. Crazy stuff is bound to happen and wipe out any plan you thought you had, like a global pandemic cancelling graduation. So now those dots are gone. If I were to stand in my first grade classroom in front of the blank wall that said “I plan to…” I would write “I plan to live my life.”