nostalgia

The heat rolled off the thick, parched pavement in slivers of black and silver. My father, who doesn't enjoy temperatures above or below 62 degrees, was facing his worst nightmare: A broiling southern afternoon in mid-August. We were crammed into my '93 Chevy Cavalier, my mother in the backseat and my father and I in the front. This was it; this was my grand entrance to college, and I was making it drenched in sweat. My dad was full of surprises, including a bold and desperate decision to use the AC, and just 21 hours later, we were here.

First thought: Huge. The campus that is. The heat was unbearable. Thatcher #381.
And it all began in a heatwave,a heartbeat. I had no idea those were the first days of a love affair. Oh, I complained about worships, Campus Safety, Sabbath morning check. I whined about the cafe food, which is still exactly the same as it was four years ago, only the mashed potatoes are a little creamier. I stumbled out of bed at 2 a.m. because someone had decided to straighten their hair, burn lampshades, incinerate popcorn and scald five course meals. I knew all the soccer teams, Fluffy, Furia, Hot Boys. . . soccer fights, broken legs, red cards. I'd fallen in and out of like with Besst Wraps. Eaten in the old KR's. I'd watched the leaves change, rain dance and flowers open. I'd changed majors. I'd learned the distinct smell of buildings and dorm hallways. I'd inhaled the scent of sugary blueberry muffins on crisp, winter mornings. I'd spent hours on homework and semesters on memories. Little by little I was falling in love, but all too soon it was time to say goodbye. He left, I cried. I found friends that were strong, a God who was stronger and a love that was longer. I lifted my voice to the heavens with fellow students at vespers-the best part of my week. I played softball, hockey, soccer. Two years, three years, it was my last year. Graduation? I saw new faces in familiar places. Time was drawing closer. Leaving was the plan, with more than I came with. Here I am, so close to the end; a beginning just around the bend. Honduras for mission work, yet I'm leaving so much behind. I'm clinging to these weeks, hours, minutes, moments. Southern has become my second home. Pull out my hair, papers to write, classes to hate, boys not to date. I've learned a trade, friends I've made, and I've found me. For now I'll be leaving, leaving behind college, a life I've learned to love. Days are growing warmer, another heatwave, a million heartbeats. I'm letting go, hanging on.


I'll be back.

[Hannah]