A dark, stone steeple looms over the decaying city, a reminder of the grandeur of times gone by. I stare out my window, thoughts and worries mingling together as we drive by empty lots and ugly apartment buildings. I’m in Paterson, NJ, part of an impromptu visit to a friend from Southern. We’ve just spent a few hours at a park, which was a peaceful escape from the loud rap music and shouting that characterize other parts of the city. Her friends chatter in Dominican Spanish {I add Dominican because it means I struggle to understand the jokes or the words}. It’s been a crazy week and I can barely remember what’s happened, but I’ll try to recap for the sake of this blog.
Last Sunday: I graduated. It’s already a week ago, but it seems like it never happened. I remember waiting to hear my name and walking across the stage, and after that it was a blur of photos and goodbyes. My high school friend Di had flown in from Boston for the weekend, and my parents and aunt and uncle were also there.
My middle name should be nostalgia. I hold onto the precious memories of the past, clinging to them with determined fingers, hoping to at least retain shreds of what once was. I’m a spontaneous person, but change often fills me with sadness. My four years of college had come to a close. I wasn’t a freshman anymore, in fact, I was an alumna, which Southern kindly reminded me of with a silver key chain placed on my chair at graduation practice. Couldn’t they at least wait until I’d shaken hands and received my diploma? After graduation I headed home to pack. I say home because that is what Collegedale has become for me. Poplar #3. We’d had countless potlucks, game nights, late nights, study nights, friend nights . . . the memories were so sweet.
Post-graduation plans have included a trip to China to visit my friend Lu. I’d booked my ticket and been naive enough to think I could get a visa once I arrived in China. However, I soon realized the ridiculousness of that thought and found out I’d have to go to Washington, D.C. to apply for one at the embassy there. So I added yet another thing to my to-do list. Thursday came. My car was packed and I was ready to head home. I hung out with Michelle and Ana all day, with a few quick goodbyes here and there. The plan was to drive all night and arrive in D.C. in the morning.
Why do all good things come to an end? I got in my car, said my last goodbyes and hugged people I wouldn’t see for a year, and started the long drive. A strange sadness crept through my body as I drove away from so many happy memories. That night was horrible. I was so tired, and even though I tried to play upbeat music to stay awake, my eyes were heavy and dry. I had to pull over and nap at least three times, but I finally made it to D.C.
Let me just say that GPS saved my life that day. The Chinese embassy had relocated so I drove to the new location, in traffic that might have once frightened me and would still give my mother a heart attack. As I crossed the road, excitement filled me, and I said a quick prayer that God would work out all of this visa nonsense. After a long night of driving and little sleep, I was in a surprisingly good mood; however, the door to the embassy was shut and on it was a note saying they were closed for the day. I wanted to laugh, but that emotion was short lived because I quickly felt discouragement overwhelming me.
So, a quick phone call led me to Paterson where I’ve been spending the weekend with my friend Shirley and her family.
LATER: Monday I took a bus into NYC to give it one last shot. I got to the embassy at 11:30 and the lines were quite long. I found the express line after some confusion, and realized they were actually giving out same-day rush service visas, even though I’d heard it would take at least 4-6 days. I was afraid to get my hopes up, but I immediately began to pray that if it was God’s will, that He would enable me to get a visa. I quickly made friends with the man in front of my and the girl behind me. The hours in line went by quickly and I forgot my hungry stomach and tired feet. I kept praying. Someone told us they would probably make us come back the next day, but I kept hoping God would work a miracle. Finally it was my turn and I crossed my fingers as I explained that my flight was supposed to leave the next day. The lady didn’t even seem to hear me. She signed a receipt and I asked her incredulously if she’d given me a same-day visa. It was too good to be true. I high-fived my friend, taking one last look at her in her tan hat, aviators and purple streaked hair.
God is good.
I’m in my friend’s apartment in Boston and my flight leaves in eight hours. I’m going to get some sleep.
China here I come.
