redefining connections in kalispell
It’s been two weeks since I drove all the way to Kalispell, Montana, for my OB/GYN rotation, and I think my body craved this slower pace of life.
Back home in Seattle, life felt like a constant pull—between school, marathon training, volunteering, squeezing in time outdoors, and saying yes to social plans that filled my cup. Here, away from home, I’ve stumbled upon an unexpected silver lining: the peace of solitude. With fewer competing priorities, I’ve allowed myself to be selfish with my time and energy in a way that feels both unfamiliar and deeply necessary.
Being in a new place always sparks a curiosity in me—to understand the community, to figure out what makes it tick. And the best way to learn about a place is to meet the people who bring it to life. On my first day, I found myself befriending a local at REI who helped me pick out my first pair of winter boots (unsurprisingly, the city girl in me was unprepared for Montana snow). In a place with very minimal diversity, I met a new friend at the gym with Vietnamese heritage and couldn’t help but wonder how his family ended up in small-town Kalispell. My attending, after only one shift together, invited me to her house for her birthday dinner. The owner of the only asian market in town insisted on giving me vegetables, when I mentioned missing the accessibility of groceries back home in Seattle. Each interaction reminded me how genuine people can be when you open yourself up to connection.
The Seattle version of me might have hesitated at how effortlessly these conversations unfolded. But the extrovert in me thrived, seeking out moments that has made this six-week assignment feel more familiar than foreign. Just as I was curious about what brought people to Kalispell or what it was like to grow up here, I noticed that people were equally curious about me. That mutual exchange—of stories, experiences, and perspectives—became a quiet thread weaving me into the fabric of this place.
Over the years, my definition of connection has evolved. If you had asked my 21-year-old self, I would have defined it as friendship—people who are deeply integrated into your daily life. But growing older has taught me that connection isn’t limited to permanence. It can be long-distance friendships that persist despite the miles, or fleeting moments with strangers where you find common ground in an instant. Whether it’s a conversation with a patient, a shared laugh with someone while running errands, or meeting a new person and discovering a sliver of commonality—these moments matter. They remind me that connection isn’t always about longevity; sometimes, it’s simply about presence and the willingness to be seen, even if just for a moment.