In my struggle to churn out yet another piece this week, I stopped a moment to look around my tiny, little, Wisconsin hamlet and ponder life.

Oh boy, this sounds, boring, huh? Well, you’re probably right. But, also while trying to turn out an article for this week I realize I haven’t written a reflexive, pensive piece like the sort I was accustomed to writing towards the beginning of my Odyssey career.

So, buckle up, buttercup. No politics, top 10 lists, or open letters here. Get ready to hear my haphazard musings (for what they’re worth).

With a year of college under my belt, I’ve been spending the summer back home. This is the longest period of time I’ve spent in this house and in my room and in my bed since packing all my things in just a handful of cardboard boxes and making the trek down to Atlanta almost a year ago.

It was strange, at first, to say the least. The town hadn’t changed a whole lot, but there were a handful of differences. A new sign at Veterans Park. A new construction project on the road that heads north out of town.

But so much had stayed the same, as things tend to do in towns of 5,000 people or less. In fact, much of this little town probably looks no different than it did 100 years ago.

That’s what I think struck me the most about coming back home for the summer. The starkness of difference between the bustle of the city and the quiet of the country is one thing, but to take that even further, the difference between the dynamism of the former and the constancy of the latter is incredibly upfront. Things stay here. Season after season, they stay.

And then there were friends. Relatives. Neighbors. Former teachers, employers, etc. All set to bombard me with questions about how this aspect or that aspect of my life was going. Mostly, it was generic: so how’s college? And I would generally answer with a generic: pretty good.

Thing is, in coming back I also found it difficult to pare down my experience to something that would be relatable and still fit into a soundbite. After all, most of the adults that I talked to had gone to college, so they knew what it was like. But, just like any aspect of life, my college and my experience was something wholly unique to me. They wouldn’t know all the quirky Oxford traditions that had made my year something to remember. No Lord Dooley, no Oxford Olympics, none of it.

On top of that, how to be brief? My freshman year of college was 8 months of my life that really opened my eyes to a number of things. How to fit that in a few words that could pass for small talk?

And so because of all that, “pretty good” had to suffice.

Staring at the remainder of my summer, that ever-dwindling period of time, I’m trying to put together where to go from here. What do I do with the rest of my time at home? How do I best prepare for my second year of school, which will probably present itself with challenges wholly unique and distinct from my first? How do I navigate the ever evolving entanglement of relationships, responsibilities, and dreams that play themselves out as I continue to pass from my current base of operations here, in this little town, to the big wide world?

These are questions, I realize, that are likely too grandiose for any single Odyssey article, but they are the things that dwell most heavily on me in the here and now. Sharing them with you, even if they are boring, provides me with some sort of passage to peace of mind.

So, until I unfurl more haphazard musings on you, thanks for indulging me.