#TWLOHAsummer.

Most likely, you’ve participated in the tradition of making New Year’s resolutions, but have you ever written a list of summer resolutions? I have. I think the habit started in my middle school years, as I began to journal about my life and its transitions in earnest. Every May, around the time tassels were turning and yearbooks were being distributed, I’d sit down to make an ambitious list of hopes and goals for the coming months. Some of them were just a continuation of resolutions I’d selected in January of that year, but others were more specific to the freedom, weather, and possibilities of summertime.

“Don’t sleep in every morning just because you can.”
“Learn how to cook.”
“Find new activities to try in your hometown.”
“Keep in touch with your dorm roommates at least once a week.”

As with resolutions made at any other time of year, I crafted these to-do lists with care and excitement—and didn’t always do so well at checking them off. But to me, summer represented too much to not merit some thought and intention, even if it panned out differently than I planned. The muggy mornings always felt fertile with the promise of change, and the long afternoons stretched out like a deep sigh, both productive and restful. I can think of few moments in which I have felt more full of life and potential than when looking at the stars from the backseat on a road trip, my heart aching with anticipation for … something. Everything.

As I progressed through college and encountered the weight of “the real world,” I pushed myself to soak up the summertime in new ways. I read countless books, volunteered more at my church, spent extra money on plane rides and concert nights, hiked and biked and whitewater rafted. And as I look back, I know my life is richer because of these experiences. Some of my most fulfilling and formative memories are awash in the sparkle of summer, glinting like fireflies in the front yard.

Even now, as a full-time work schedule makes it easier for me to click “Like” on the photos of others’ journeys than to embark on ones of my own, I still sense the urgency and optimism that sets summer apart for me. I don’t always make a list of resolutions anymore, but I still make it to the beach, I still sleep in on Saturdays, and I still revel in tank tops, hot pavement, and frozen lemonade. Most importantly, I’m still acutely aware of how these fleeting, sticky months in the middle of the year can be a defined opportunity for relaxation, for renewal of purpose, for exploring our world and ourselves.

A few months ago, Jess, our Director of Operations, wondered, “What if we invited all of our supporters to share their summer adventures with us?” We turned this idea into the #TWLOHAsummer hashtag, asking you to post photos on social media whenever you wore TWLOHA gear as you traveled, played, worked, and enjoyed your summer. And you did. For the past couple months, we’ve watched and smiled as messages of love have climbed, swam, and crowd-surfed their way across the United States and beyond. You’ve caught sharks, summited mountains, visited with friends, worked hard, and went to festivals, all while proclaiming in your own way: “Hope is real. You are not alone. Let us not be silent. Better days are ahead.”

Of course, not every summer memory makes its way into a filtered photo. You don’t always accomplish all that you set out to, and sometimes, even the summer sun brings with it an unexpected darkness. I know this; I’m sure you know this. But as I scroll through the tweets and photos of #TWLOHAsummer, I have to hope these are the moments that keep you going, the images that hold their shimmer for years to come: True friends. Clear skies. Fresh water. New adventures. Live music. Mountaintops.

If you’ve posted photos and stories of your #TWLOHAsummer, we want to thank you, and if you haven’t yet, we hope you’ll do so soon. Together, we’re building a scrapbook of memories to warm us throughout the year, a testament to the good days we all know are possible.

—Alyce