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But the experience that changed me the most was all of the conversations I had with the nurses who were caring for my dad. They shared their lives with me, told me about their kids, the trips they’d taken, and how spending time with people who are dying helps you live a fuller life.

I think that’s exactly what I needed to hear—that you can still live a life with purpose and spontaneity while helping others. And trust me, I’ve learned that working in medicine rarely has those days, especially in the ER, so I know that’s where I belong.

And then my mom showed me an article from the old Garnet Valley Newspaper that featured my great-grandmother, a woman I barely remember but have always been told I resemble in both personality and appearance. And when I’m on campus, the statue of her in the courtyard fountain serves as yet another reminder of our supposed similarities.

But Eleanor Banks was also a nurse, and her legacy was built by establishing the community college where most of my family has attended or worked in some capacity, focusing on founding the nursing program that I’m currently enrolled in—the same program that is recognized as one of the best in the country.

Yes, country. Not just the great state of Tennessee.

That life-changing experience finally helped me realize I wanted to make a difference in other people’s lives, not just focus on my own.

So I applied to the nursing program and never looked back.

I was determined to prove to my family and myself that I could finish something, make a decision and live with it, and do something of purpose with my life.

It wasn’t just your family that you wanted to prove something to, though, was it, Lennon?

Just one more year before I can proudly prove that Lennon Riley is capable of finishing something and isn’t just the wildflower everyone thinks she is.

Even I don’t recognize the girl I see in the mirror these days.

I pull up to my parents’ house ten minutes earlier than I planned and rush through the front door, startling my mom in the kitchen.

She jumps from where she stands at the stove, busy preparing breakfast for everyone. “Dear God, Lennon! Is there a fire I didn’t know about?”

“Well, if there were, good thing there are two firefighters in the family,” Blair interjects from her spot beside the sink, by the giant dining room table we’ve gathered around as long as I can remember.

“No, just need to change and grab my stuff!” The sound of my feet pounding on the stairs is enough to wake anyone left sleeping, but since it’s well after six in the morning, that chance is slim. Besides, it’s only me and my parents who live in this house now, and I know my father has also been awake since the sun crested the sky. After his heart attack four years ago, he changed his habits wholeheartedly, much to my mother’s relief. Daily exercise, a healthier diet, and less stress—even though that last one is difficult when you’re the fire chief. But each day, he and my mom wake up before the sun rises and walk around the block together, something they started once he was fully recovered.

It’s so adorable that it’s downright gag-worthy.

“Your parents make romance movies look like real life.”

The memory of Easton’s words and the week we spent together when he rushed home to be there for my family makes my chest ache as I shove my books and notebooks into my backpack.

It’s been a while since my former best friend has crossed my mind, but each time he does, the memories stir up a flood of emotions.

Shaking off the sadness and regret Easton always stirs up, I change into my burgundy scrubs that match the main hue of Garnet Valley Community College, hoist my backpack over my shoulder, and stomp back downstairs to find my family already gathered in the kitchen.

Jesus, how long was I up there?

“And so I told the athletic commissioner that if he wants us to finally win some games, he needs to give us the funding to do so.” Hudson, my older brother, stares across the table at my father while lifting his cup of coffee to his mouth. The two of them are nearly mirror images of each other, a detail that still freaks me out from time to time.

“You know that community colleges always get the short end of the stick when it comes to funding,” my father replies, taking a bite of his whole wheat bagel with light cream cheese. “Hell, we go through the same thing with the fire department. States pump money into the stations in big cities, but us small guys need engines and equipment too, especially this close to the Great Smokies.”

“It’s ridiculous. All it’s going to take is one fire in these mountains for them to see that our station is severely underfunded.” Blair pours coffee at the counter with her back to the table, her long brown ponytail swaying as she shakes her head.

“Should I talk to the commissioner for you, Hudson? See if I can sway him a bit?” my mother prods as she scrambles eggs at the stove. My mother makes the perfect scrambled eggs. Seriously, she makes Gordon Ramsay look like an amateur.

One whiff of them and my stomach doesn’t jump for joy like usual, though. Instead, it starts to twist itself into a pretzel.

I take one of the empty chairs and plop down into it, waiting to see if there’s anything else that sounds good for breakfast this morning as my eyes move across the table filled with plates of pastries, breakfast meats, and fresh fruit.

This doesn’t happen every day, but a few times a month, my family gathers for breakfast. Well, except for Sloane, my oldest sister, who lives in California now.

The only one we’re missing is Nora.

As if my thoughts summoned her, the baby of the family waltzes into the kitchen, sporting her quirky and colorful dress of the day.