It was nice to have a car that could make it a hundred miles to its destination safely, and with a world of possibilities in my trunk, this was my chance to finally prove that I could make it in the crafting world. It would never sound serious no matter how I worded it, so all I could do was lean into how fun the entire experience sounded, even if a lot of people would never understand the draw.

I knew that two trips were for quitters, but there was no way that I was going to be able to carry all of the stuff I wanted to sell plus all of my other supplies inside all in one go. I loaded up as many bags as I could onto my arms and headed toward the building from the parking lot.

There was plenty of room for lots of cars, so I was hoping that would mean that a lot of business would be walking through the fair. I hadn't started a business class yet, but I knew that I would have to spend money to make money, and it wasn't exactly cheap to drive a couple hours south in this economy.

My phone began to ring, and I didn't even have to look at who it was before I answered it. I didn't even have a free hand if I wanted to check who it was.

"Hey. I was just calling to make sure that you made it there safely," Chris said.

With plastic bags filled with afghans and winter apparel lining my arms, I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "I sure did. I just didn't realize how much stuff I brought with me."

"Well, it'll be a much easier trip on the way back home. I'm sorry I couldn't get the day off so I could help you," he said.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I can definitely handle this myself," I said. I was pretty much used to handling my own problems at this point anyway. "Well, thank you for checking in with me. I'll let you know when I'm on my way back later today."

We wrapped up the call, and as I continued to carry my phone in my hand because I couldn't quite reach my pocket, I took in a breath. It was just beginning to turn light outside, and the morning air was crisply cool to set the tone for such an invigorating day.

It was a good day to start the rest of my life—hopefully.

It was so nice having a friend like Chris in my corner, especially as I ventured out to a city I had never even visited. It wasn't like a girl could find that kind of support just anywhere these days.

Ever since Blake decided that he would definitely be happier closer to his job and out of Marblehead, things were different back at home. The memories of us as two outcasts in high school were no longer enough to make us best friends anymore. We had two different hearts, and there wasn't anything wrong with that, but it made me realize that maybe we were better off as ex-roommates.

Until he left, though, we were going to be friendly. There was no falling out or anything dramatic, but it was like I had a slow realization that there wasn't much I even liked about him anymore. And if Chris was right that Blake had always talked to me that way, I wasn't sure what I ever liked about him in the first place.

Well, at least I was consistently bad at picking people worth my time.

I assumed Alex would be out too as soon as we finished up our lease, and I wasn't sure what that meant for me, since I certainly couldn't afford a place like that by myself. Moving back in with my parents was an option, but if their helpful guidance (or whatever they liked to call it) was annoying from a distance, it wasn't going to be any better if we were living together again.

At least this kind of pressure was a great motivator for today to go well.

***

"This is cute," a young teenage girl in a Taylor Swift sweatshirt said to her mom as they passed by my table. I wasn't sure what she was referring to specifically, but it didn't really matter. If I could catch their eye with color or texture or something else, that had to be a good sign for the day I was going to have.

If there was one thing I appreciated about the kids these days, it was that they had taste. Sure, it was cool to fit into an aesthetic, but there was a lot of freedom and individuality within those groups, and that was where creators like me could thrive.

The girl stopped in front of the table and ran her hand over a sage green, teal, and pink afghan with a Starbucks cup in her other hand. I had gotten the pattern out of a magazine my grandmother had kept for over forty years, and all I had done was update the colors. Who would have thought that it would still resonate after so much time?

I took another glance at her coffee. A white mocha sounded really good right about now. I made a mental note to stop at Starbucks before I headed home. I deserved a little treat, even if I didn't sell a thing.

"This would go so perfect in my room," the girl said and looked up at her mom.

"You know how these kids are with TikTok trends. They've got to be involved even if it ends up killing them," the mom said as she dug through her purse. She looked to be Gen X, and if that was true, she surely had no room to talk about stupid trends that could end badly. That 80s hair was absolutely atrocious.

But I supposed that I couldn't judge either. I ate a spoonful of cinnamon and a Tide Pod because the internet told me that it would be funny.

"Do you crochet at all?" I asked the girl.

She shook her head. "No, but I'm, like, obsessed with watching TikToks about it. It's so grandma core."

The kids are alright.

While I didn't quite understand all the nuances of the different cores that circulated on TikTok, it didn't matter. All I knew was that when I was her age, I was considered a basic bitch, and ultimately, the classification system had only gotten a hell of a lot more creative and way less insulting (at least, it seemed that way to my untrained eye).

I wasn't basic anymore. I was grandma core.

I shook my head at the thought. I definitely didn't care for that title one bit. I was only twenty-four, after all.

But even if her mom complained about the damn TikTok, she still bought the blanket for her daughter, and as much as it meant for the girl, it meant a whole lot more for me.

I wasn't ever going to spend my life in some boring corporate world. My two jobs were selling my handmade goods and working at a local winery that had been a staple in town for years. But it sure felt good to know that maybe I could make a living the way people were supposed to, by genuinely providing goods or a service to everyday people.

There was a long way to go until I could make that work for sure, but I was on the right track for myself. I knew that for a fact. I felt it in my heart, my bones, my soul.

I thanked them as they walked away to find the next thing the teenage girl absolutely needed.

Take advantage of having your mom paying for everything, kid. That was the good life right there.

With a little bit of money in my metaphorical cash register now, I continued to smile and greet people as they walked by or stopped to see what kind of stuff I had, but in between the potential customers, I snuck glances at that list of business classes that my parents had printed out for me. As much as I hated to admit it, it was super helpful to have the options on paper in front of me.

It sure was strange knowing that a giant chunk of my future was just chilling in a random building in Columbus, Ohio, but there were worse places to be putting my eggs into a single basket, I supposed. 

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Hi there, friend! Thank you so much for reading!

So for our question this chapter, if you had to describe your vibe with some type of "core," what would it be?

I would say that I would like to be a cottage core girl, but due to my inability to keep a plant alive, I'm not sure I'm able to make that claim. So I guess I would have to go with craft core. I love crochet myself, and they know me by name at the craft store, so I think I'm pretty much doomed to an aesthetic of crafts. There are worse things to be, though.