I met Hannah LeMair for coffee on a bitter cold autumn day. She wraps her hands around a hot chocolate, her drink of choice on days like these, and smiles to herself. Hannah’s got a nice smile, eyes that crinkle at the corners, and short brown hair she often keeps tucked under a knitted cap. She explains to me that “Hannah” means “grace,” “Lenore” means “light,” and “LeMair” is French for “the mayor.” Interestingly enough, her name sort of forms a sentence: “Grace, light the mayor.” Hannah snickers at the thought. “Wonder what the poor guy did to be started ablaze?”
That’s the thing about Hannah - she’s endlessly witty. She’s only 17, but appears much more learned and mature than that. In fact, she’d rather not be 17; she explains as she sips on her hot chocolate that she can’t decide what age is most desirable. “I’m torn between wanting to be 15 my entire life and not care about literally anything, or wanting to be a well established 30 year old with a lovely career and a small child to be best friends with.”
Hannah keeps busy. She loves playing the piano, camping, painting, songwriting and composing, hiking, writing stories, singing, and collecting trinkets. She claims that she is “god-awful” at most of these activities (a modest lie), but rushes to defend her hoarder-like collection tendencies: “I’ve always picked up really valueless objects and held onto them for obscene amounts of time … I feel like I thrive in the chaos of it all. Clutter is so comforting, to be honest.” Well, to each her own.
As we chat, the weather becomes increasingly more blustery, and Hannah remarks that her drive home is going to be "fun." Hannah lives in the country, a fifteen minute drive outside of town, and though she loves the countryside, she doesn't enjoy driving the half an hour round trip to get everywhere. "Growing up, my attitude about living outside of town was one of bitterness, because I couldn’t very easily have friends over and I was pretty geographically isolated." Country kid, problems, right?
Hannah adds, "I also hated bugs a lot, which is a serious problem when you're a kid with all this outdoor space to play in." She loves living where she does, however, and especially loves a certain tree at the southwestern corner that her family has dubbed the “Sunset Hotel.” Why, you ask? Hannah scoffs. "For its ideal view of the sunset every night." I guess I should've added "tree climbing" to her list of hobbies.
I ask her if all this tree-climbing was taught to her by a sibling, maybe a tough love brother or an adventurous sister. "No," Hannah shrugs, stating simply: "All my older siblings are so much older than me, so I feel a little like an only child. My closest sister is six years older than me." She's the youngest of five, and three of her older siblings are married. "Basically, I have a solid seven siblings." (Excellent alliteration, Hannah!) I ask her if that's a strange dynamic, having so many siblings who are so much older than her. "Having a lot of siblings is nice, because there’s always this feeling that I’ve got people who will support me. Even if we aren’t always physically or emotionally close, all of us will always have the others' back." Sweet, supportive siblings. Sick!
As our conversation continues, the topic invariably heads in one direction: food. Hannah loves food in all sorts, but her true love lies in potatoes. She will eat potatoes in any form at any time of day. I decide to pose a very difficult question: what is the best way to prepare potatoes? Hannah immediately lights up. “Now, that’s a quality question right there.” She takes a minute or so to contemplate, and finally answers, “Mashed potatoes. 100% the best way to prepare potatoes.” I nod in agreement, but then she adds, “Twice-baked potatoes, though? They are near-equally acceptable.” So, the world may never know what the best potato preparation method is. The moral of the story, though, is Hannah’s favorite saying: “Potatoes, potatoes, potatoes!”
We eventually start to talk about the future, as all high school seniors must. Hannah doesn’t have everything figured out, but she’s excited and determined. She’s going to attend a four-year university, focusing on choral music and literature studies. After college, her dream is to sing as a career and write as a hobby. She hopes to step foot in every ocean, her number one bucket list item, and perhaps, one day, find love. I ask her what she thinks about true love, and she pauses to reflect before choosing her words carefully. “I think true love exists, but it only gets you halfway. The other half is a long string of listening, compromise, and compassion that makes relationships worth having. True love alone isn’t always enough.” Hannah has a pretty interesting take on beauty, too. She once wrote this passage, explaining her rationale:
“The concept of living a life that is worry-free and filled with beautiful everyday occurrences means a lot to me. Making spaces feel alive, from the paper snowflakes hanging from my bedroom ceiling, to the newsprint plastered to my locker, is important. Often times, I find that thoughts come and go through my head too fast to be recalled, and when this happens too much, it begs the question: do I have thoughts at all? Beautiful spaces remind us that there is something magical happening up there, because it left its imprint on this space. Writing reminds me that every word on every page was once only a fleeting thought I had that somehow made it into the physical world. And while not every word is perfect, every thought is intact and that is what makes writing so precious to me.”
Well, with such a beautiful and mature outlook on life and love, I’m more than sure Hannah will meet success in every facet of her future. We exit the coffeeshop, and she smiles again. “Potatoes, potatoes, potatoes.”