The night before I left for college, I had a sleepover with three of my closest friends from high school. We made a fort using the kitchen table and some blankets. We crawled into our fort and wondered what life would look like away from each other, away from our parents, away from the town we had been raised in. Eventually my friends rolled over and dozed off. I was left staring at the bottom of the kitchen table, a combination of terror and excitement keeping me from sleep.
That was four years ago. What a journey it has been.
I came to this university to learn about journalism and English. But I've learned so, so much more.
I've learned about friendships. Some don't last forever. Some do. I'll never forget the first real friend I made in college ("Your name is Grace? My name is Hope!"), or the late night talks and 4 a.m. pizza cravings I had with my roommate. There were the Wednesday lunch dates with friends (we called ourselves "The Lunch Bunch"), where we would sit at the circular tables near the food services in the Student Union and talk about the most bizarre things. Our goal was for me to become an IC columnist and write about our conversations each week. Sorry guys, I'm a little late.
There was that time I cried over family problems to a friend at Starbucks, and the time I went streaking with another friend in Centennial Mall (but I probably shouldn't write that).
I've learned about boys. They can be devastatingly romantic. There was the one who took me on a date unlike any I had been on before. We took a walk through the park as we smoked cigars. We ate pizza and played games at an arcade. We journeyed through a corn maze and stared at the stars. We had our own scavenger hunt at Meijers. But I was too immature and independent to commit. Another boy wrote me a love letter and left it outside my door the last day of school last year. His words were like poetry. I haven't seen him since.
And then, there was the boy I could never have. The first time I saw him in class, I knew we had to be friends. So I sat next to him and introduced myself. He was smart and hilarious, just like I had imagined. He would talk about his dreams, which consisted of going places and writing books and falling in love. Sometimes we'd walk around campus or get coffee at Bigby's. As soon as I got back to my room I'd write heart-wrenching entries in my diary. But friends are all we ever were, and friends we'll remain.
I've learned about family. I came to college to get away from mine. I would go home only when necessary; fall break, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. My summers would be spent elsewhere. Like any other average American family, mine is dysfunctional. Only since coming to college have I discovered the repercussion my childhood has had on me as an adult. Last semester I called my mom when I was on the treadmill in my dorm and told her I didn't forgive her. We talked through my baggage, which at times had me screaming through tears. The girl on the treadmill next to me probably thought I was crazy.
I've learned about God. I thought I knew who He was. But really I had just made Him into who I wanted Him to be. When I found out He was someone different, I spent two years hating Him. I would go to church and roll my eyes, or sit in Bible study and dispute everything that was taught. At night I'd walk down the train tracks by Rocket Hall and wonder what the point of anything was. After nearly losing all hope, I experienced a breaking point where I was able to taste a breath of fresh air. God's love is rejuvenating like that.
I've learned about death. I was sitting by the bus loop in the Student Union when my mom called me to tell me grandpa had died. For years my parents had been telling me that grandma was about to die, but instead it was grandpa who was first to go.
I've learned about life. Sometimes my lessons came by driving home on Route 23 for what felt like days, with only the rustic road and setting sun to keep me company. Other lessons came from my brilliant professors - Lindsay, Kilmer, Many, Fatima, Barden, Bradley, Arroyo and Pryor, to name a few - who forced me to try harder, think deeper and write better.
Working at the Student Union Building's Subway has been a life lesson in itself. I recall blindly grabbing sub after sub while being yelled at for too much or too little mayonnaise as I turned around to open the toaster oven that was beeping in the background. Please be kind to your Subway sandwich makers.
Over the course of my three years as a resident adviser, I've had to break up fights, clean up urine, deal with mumps and sacrifice my time, sleep and sanity. But through it all I've encountered the most amazing people. I've found it's the relationships that make life worthwhile.
I've learned about beauty. I used to treat every day like a burden I had to get through. Each one was the same to me, filled with classes and meetings and mundane activities. I didn't realize how beautiful each day truly was until I learned how to focus on the seemingly insignificant details, like smiling at a stranger when walking to class or seeing the same custodian every Monday morning when I work the front desk of Ottawa House ("I know it must be 8 o'clock," she says to me. "Because you are here now.")
When I pack up my car and drive down Route 23 for the last time in just a few days, I'll be leaving here with more than a degree. I'll be leaving with a sense of what life is really about - the ups and downs, friends and family, God and boys, beauty and love. I can only hope you have the same experience. Thanks for reading.
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