Bridge Year Costa Rica – Spring 2025

The turtles are hatching. Crunches and cracks echo through the hatchery, over which rises a shining sun. The caretaker, attracted by the sounds, sees little green heads peeking through the shells of their eggs. Once freed, they shake off the slumber of two months in captivity.

Through the air—with the tap of a finger—the message flies to the phones of the volunteers who are residing in the Center of Investigations in Hacienda Barú. They get up, leaping from their bunk beds, and ready themselves hurriedly. They leap into the car and arrive at the beach just as the turtles begin to waddle toward the water. The volunteers frolic about ecstatic. Cellphones and cameras fill their storages with soft-shelled green creatures crawling through the sticky sand, diving through sea foam, and braving onward. And like the hand of mercy itself comes a blue wave that sweeps them out to sea. The turtles are last seen swimming away and the volunteers cheer…

Except one. The one that got left behind. The one that was in bed while all the aforementioned occurred. He rises, rubbing his eyes, gets ready slowly and leaves his room, only to find that everyone is gone. He checks his phone—he realizes what happened. And immediately, fierce and inevitable, a wave crashes upon him—like that which swept the hatchlings out to sea—of fury. How could he miss such a special event—one so rare? How could he live without the photos, without the memories, without the infinite wisdom he would have obtained had he been there? His hands clench. His lips twist.

He is waiting outside when the volunteers arrive back. He asks questions to a few, hoping to hear that it was uninteresting or—hopefully—even boring. To his dismay, they say it had gone wonderfully. Dang it!

He passes an hour soaked in his own misery, feeling bad for himself and cursing the deep sleep he had been suffering as they knocked on all the doors to wake everyone up. He knows ever-so-slightly that it isn’t missing out on the turtle birth that is what hurts, rather that the others had done something he hadn’t. In the back of his mind, he suspects that he could make his day better with a bit of willpower, that he could forget about what he had lost and decide that he wants to pass the present and future enjoying what he does have. Instead, he spends another hour alone with his grief.

He decides to tell a friend what happened. She listens to him until he hasn’t anything else to tell and then, with permission, she shares what she thinks. She says that if he is strong enough, he could turn this moment of loss, of pain, of biblical rage, into a moment of learning. She says, “If you turn every crummy moment you have in life into an opportunity to better yourself, think of the person you’ll be.” Suddenly, his sadness crumbles, from rock to pebble. First, he feels stupid, then angry for having wasted so much time feeling bad for himself and feeling stupid, and lastly, angry for having wasted even more time feeling bad for himself for feeling bad for himself for having wasted time. He thanks his friend and hangs up.

He sits and thinks. He realizes that the knowledge he just obtained is something new and powerful that could ready him in the future for more critical moments, for sudden and dangerous inflection points in the future—like missing an encounter that could have changed the course of his life.

He takes out his phone and sees that another friend has sent him a link to a turtle hatchery close to the place where he lives and that, once back in the US, he will be able to enjoy the event beside the dearest people in his life.

Today, I learned an important lesson that prepared me for university, one where there will always be opportunities that overlap and one where, without a time turner, it will be impossible to do everything. There will always be smarter, stronger and faster people than me in any single thing I do, but it is the combination of everything I offer—in every field of study and exercise—that makes me valuable. I am happy that I didn’t see the turtles because I learned an important lesson that can’t be taught with a book or an article.

So the next time you curse the world for having lost it all, remember—or make a friend remind you—that every moment of misfortune and disappointment can be turned into a one of understanding and even joy. Sometimes the turtle that leaves its egg last is the first to leap into the water.