May 13, 2014 Leave a comment
This is my belated thank you letter, the one that extends hundreds of miles and
oceans wide, the one that I should have written to so many people for so many things, the one that never came in the mail or still lies unwritten on my desk. For the things big and small, heroic or ordinary, important or inconsequential. For the people, moments, and places that have swept me off my feet and shaken my small corner of the world. As the Dictionary of Obsolete Sorrows so aptly describes, a memory, a lifetime, “are not just the moments, not the grand gestures or the catered ceremonies, not the poised person smiling in photos, they’re the invisible things. The minutes, the cheap raw material of ordinary time.”
Four years ago, my family – both parents and all three brothers in tow – dropped me off at Goucher in the sweltering Baltimore heat for my first cross-country pre-season, my first real Goucher memory. After four hours of unpacking, sweating, and bickering, I waved them off with a factitiously haughty, “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving – maybe.” Five minutes later, I was lying on my bed staring at the cracks in the ceiling and wishing with all my heart that my family would hear my silent thoughts and come back for me and take me home. I came to the conclusion that if this was what college would be like – silent, lonely, sweaty – then these next four years were going to suck.
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