Falling into Summer

Foreword

It was the summer of 2001, when I made the life altering decision to move away from everything and everyone I'd ever known by the fate of a coin toss. Yep you heard me right, I said a coin toss. I was stuck between two choice colleges: one just outside of Los Angeles, the other outside of Orlando. After weeks of floundering, I left the decision up to fate. Given my personality, this shocks most people when I tell them. You see... I'm a fairly predictable person. Some would say I'm a planner, not at all spontaneous, a bit intense and slightly high strung. I recall kids three years ahead of me in high school, telling me to "Relax. Have some fun. Don't grow up too fast." I just figured they didn't understand someone like me. I was in a hurry... a hurry to finish this life, and get on with the rest of my life. I was excited for my future and all that could be achieved if I set my mind to it. After all, the world is my oyster, right? Ask any of my close friends and they'd tell you, "Haley has big plans."

Growing up in San Diego, although wonderful, was challenging. My mother, Eve, was a single parent who struggled every day to make sure we had a roof over our heads and food to eat. Despite growing up struggling, my memories were great as my mother became my best friend, and it was always her and I against the world. There wasn't anything we couldn't do if we did it together. Outsiders often envied our relationship, and in high school I realized what we had was special, and that none of my friends had this with their parents. My mother was a strong independent woman, full of hope and optimism. She raised me to be just as strong and independent, and always supported even my wildest dreams, insisting I could do whatever I set my mind to, encouraging me to find what I was passionate about and to pursue it.

With our bond stronger than ever my senior year of high school, she was both devastated and excited to learn that I only applied to colleges in Los Angeles and Florida. She knew this was my chance to experience life outside of where I grew up, and she was happy for me, even though she knew this meant a huge change for both of us. When the coin landed heads, and it was Florida, she became worried for me to move more than three thousand miles away. But she knew this would be an exciting time in my life and therefore she did everything she could to support my moving across country, away from her, my family and friends, and everything familiar to me.

When I'd made my final decision in early 2001 and there was no turning back, my mother asked a family friend and work contact who lived in Orlando, to watch out for her baby girl. Sarah instantly agreed, insisting she'd check on me every weekend, bring me chicken noodle soup when I was sick, and yell at me to clean my room; all the stuff den-mothers were supposed to do. I had met Sarah and her family a couple of years prior, during our vacation to Disney World, when she, her husband Mark, and son Jesse, met us for dinner one night. I adored Sarah the moment I met her. She was one of the funniest and smartest people I'd met. Being extremely quick-witted and boisterous, she had a gift of telling animated stories as jokes, and we found ourselves laughing so much our stomachs hurt by the end of the night. Naturally, we were drawn to her, and since that night our families had developed an instant bond. I remember my mother telling me Sarah had another son a couple of years older than me, but I didn't know much about why he didn't live with her.

So once Sarah got word that I was moving out, she started working her contacts at the Orlando office, the company she and my mother work for; in an effort to try to get my mother transferred to Orlando also. As fate would have it, by March I was no longer making the move by myself, and now my mother's excitement was for both of us, making it more exciting and less terrifying. The next few months were a rollercoaster of emotions: prom, graduation, and tear-filled goodbyes.

By the following September, I was fully engaged in college life with classes five days a week, and an hour commute each way. My mother worked long hours, trying to prove herself to a new boss, and commuted an hour in the opposite direction as me. It was a culture shock, being away from everything familiar to us, and a year full of adjustments. By November we were feeling pretty homesick, and hadn't planned to go home until Christmas. When Sarah heard that my mother and I were going to be alone for Thanksgiving, she invited us over to join her family. She was excited because we'd finally get to meet her oldest son, Carter. Over the past couple of months of working closely with Sarah, my mother had learned that Carter had gone to live with his dad in Virginia when he was younger; hence he wasn't around when I first met Sarah years prior. According to my mother, Carter and Sarah had only recently made amends when he graduated high school just a couple of years before me. With no other plans, my mother and I drove out to Sarah's house Thanksgiving evening. A little unsure what to expect, I was relieved to learn it was a small dinner: Sarah, Mark, Jesse, Carter, Leah (Carter's girlfriend), and us. From the moment we walked in until we left, they made us feel welcome, and we spent the whole night laughing at their family stories. Carter and Leah didn't say much, I assumed a result of us being strangers, but everyone seemed genuinely interested in our background when asked by Mark or Sarah. The most interesting thing about the evening was watching Sarah's family dynamic, something we hadn't seen before. It seemed Jesse and Carter didn't get along too well; probably the result of being born years apart and living separate lives. At the end of the night, we thanked them, said our goodbyes, and I didn't think anything of it. The next week, when my mother went back to work after the long holiday weekend, Sarah told her Carter gave her a hard time for not telling him how pretty I was... that he wouldn't have brought Leah with him had he known I was going to be there. He'd apparently thought I was really pretty, but told his mother, "Girls like that don't go for guys like me." I thought it was cute, and quite flattering. I mean I thought he was cute. His olive skin, dark hair, cut so short it was nearly shaved, and dark mustache meeting a clean cut goatee, all made for a very mature look, but I didn't make a big deal out of it... after all, he lived in Virginia and had a girlfriend, I was likely going to see very little of him, if at all.

In the spring of 2002, I felt life pulling me in another direction. School was not something I was thriving in, and when I started to feel exhausted at the thought of another four years of studying as hard as I could, I started to research other options. That's when I found a technical trade school closer to my mother's work. After some hard convincing, my mother let me transfer to Full Sail, where I could get an associate of science degree in recording arts. The academic program was intense, a full year of around the clock lectures and technical labs. A school structured to prepare students for the real world in the music industry. After a campus visit, and filling out all the necessary student aide paperwork, I was registered to start that July. Suddenly, I was more excited than ever. After being disappointed in my first choice of schooling, and wondering if moving us out here was really the best decision, I realized that I was meant to find Full Sail, as it was my way into the industry I so badly wanted to be a part of but had no way of breaking into. Music was my life; it had always spoken to me in ways people or movies never did. Not a lot of people could understand this about me, nor did anyone understand what I wanted to do in the music industry if I didn't sing or play an instrument.

With the new plan for me to attend a school less than thirty minutes from my mother's work, she started on a path to purchase her first home in Florida, closer to where we needed to be. By June, she had just closed on the purchase of her first house, and we were getting ready to move. For the first time ever, I was allowed to paint my new room, something I couldn't do while living in a rental. Because I was on summer break until July, I had planned to paint the two days before we moved. When Sarah heard of my plans, she offered to come over after work and help, so we could hang out. This was one of the many things I loved about Sarah, she was up for anything, and anytime spent with her was usually filled with laughter and fun.