For it is a very good place to start.
Packing, unpacking, repacking, losing things and finding them again, fitting them in the trunk of a very tiny car, carrying them up two flights of stairs, unpacking again, rearranging, sleeping, meeting with people, registering for classes, getting supplies, reading books, setting up University accounts, wondering where my roommate went, meeting with friends, taking a shower, discovering my roommate actually exists, finding classes, going to classes, telling friends about first day of class, missing friends who are not here, writing my little brother long emails.
I have been here, what, three days? And there are still so many things to do, to take care of, to see to.
I am, as always, and even more than last year, enjoying college. I love the dorm I am in. I love my quirky roommate. I love being able to spend so much time with my friends. I love the classes I am taking, even though I haven't been to all of them yet because classes started today. I love being back in the City.
Of course, not everything is rosy. I miss The Boy, I miss my family, I miss my little brother terribly. And, this year, I miss Beautiful Music Friend who is now going to Music School Very Far Away. I am dreading the beginning-of-school depression I suffer through every year no matter how well everything is going. Mother is still threatening to leave any minute, although Bro and Sis flat out refused to take the entrance exams she registered them for in an international school in France.
I shouldn't have listed the minuses after the pluses, but at least I saved the best for the last:
All of last week and then some, Girl In The Snow was here.
What does one say to a very dear friend whom one has not seen in five years? It doesn't matter. We recognized each other in an instant at the airport.
She is taller than me now, but her eyes, her hair, her face, even the way she twirls her hair when she is talking have remained the same.
She brought an album of all the pictures of her birthday parties when we were little and all the pictures of the trips we'd been on together. I had pictures of some trips and one of my birthdays. I didn't remember ever being so little as we were in the pictures, and I forgot some of the people who were there, but sitting down and looking at those pictures together was wonderful. We helped each other remember, people, places, and things, sitting together on the beach in Brittany, milking cows at a farm, the raclette dinner in the Alps, the mustachioed balloon and the pirate raid on the Musée National de la Marine.
At home, we talked about France. She told us about her school, Famous University With A Name That Sounds Like Sorbet. She told us about what had changed and what had remained the same in our neighborhood. She read at least half of my collection of French books.
Then, we took her places. We took her to see the City Back Home (or what little of it there is to see), the shops with their extravagant selections of everything, the cars with their extravagant sizes, shapes, and numbers, and the people, with their extravagant accents and bellies. We took her to Place Where The Alligators Roam, where birds abound, alligators bask, and giant spiders don't do much aside from spinning equally giant webs. We took her to Place Where Texas Was Born, then to the House Of The Last Texan President Which Happened To Also Be A White House, But Slightly Smaller Than The Other One. We took her to The City to tour campus and move my boxes in early to comply with University regulation. She met authentic Texans, ate authentic BBQ and burgers, listened to authentic country music, saw authentic armadillo roadkill, and was probably on the whole very disoriented. But she was happy.
She left Sunday morning, on a plane bound for Other City Where Presidents Live, to take part in a project restoring First President's garden to its historical conformation and search for artifacts.
I've talked to her since, and we can both tell that this time together, though short, has begun to fill the gap that naturally formed after such a long separation.
I'm very glad for it.
Packing, unpacking, repacking, losing things and finding them again, fitting them in the trunk of a very tiny car, carrying them up two flights of stairs, unpacking again, rearranging, sleeping, meeting with people, registering for classes, getting supplies, reading books, setting up University accounts, wondering where my roommate went, meeting with friends, taking a shower, discovering my roommate actually exists, finding classes, going to classes, telling friends about first day of class, missing friends who are not here, writing my little brother long emails.
I have been here, what, three days? And there are still so many things to do, to take care of, to see to.
I am, as always, and even more than last year, enjoying college. I love the dorm I am in. I love my quirky roommate. I love being able to spend so much time with my friends. I love the classes I am taking, even though I haven't been to all of them yet because classes started today. I love being back in the City.
Of course, not everything is rosy. I miss The Boy, I miss my family, I miss my little brother terribly. And, this year, I miss Beautiful Music Friend who is now going to Music School Very Far Away. I am dreading the beginning-of-school depression I suffer through every year no matter how well everything is going. Mother is still threatening to leave any minute, although Bro and Sis flat out refused to take the entrance exams she registered them for in an international school in France.
I shouldn't have listed the minuses after the pluses, but at least I saved the best for the last:
All of last week and then some, Girl In The Snow was here.
What does one say to a very dear friend whom one has not seen in five years? It doesn't matter. We recognized each other in an instant at the airport.
She is taller than me now, but her eyes, her hair, her face, even the way she twirls her hair when she is talking have remained the same.
She brought an album of all the pictures of her birthday parties when we were little and all the pictures of the trips we'd been on together. I had pictures of some trips and one of my birthdays. I didn't remember ever being so little as we were in the pictures, and I forgot some of the people who were there, but sitting down and looking at those pictures together was wonderful. We helped each other remember, people, places, and things, sitting together on the beach in Brittany, milking cows at a farm, the raclette dinner in the Alps, the mustachioed balloon and the pirate raid on the Musée National de la Marine.
At home, we talked about France. She told us about her school, Famous University With A Name That Sounds Like Sorbet. She told us about what had changed and what had remained the same in our neighborhood. She read at least half of my collection of French books.
Then, we took her places. We took her to see the City Back Home (or what little of it there is to see), the shops with their extravagant selections of everything, the cars with their extravagant sizes, shapes, and numbers, and the people, with their extravagant accents and bellies. We took her to Place Where The Alligators Roam, where birds abound, alligators bask, and giant spiders don't do much aside from spinning equally giant webs. We took her to Place Where Texas Was Born, then to the House Of The Last Texan President Which Happened To Also Be A White House, But Slightly Smaller Than The Other One. We took her to The City to tour campus and move my boxes in early to comply with University regulation. She met authentic Texans, ate authentic BBQ and burgers, listened to authentic country music, saw authentic armadillo roadkill, and was probably on the whole very disoriented. But she was happy.
She left Sunday morning, on a plane bound for Other City Where Presidents Live, to take part in a project restoring First President's garden to its historical conformation and search for artifacts.
I've talked to her since, and we can both tell that this time together, though short, has begun to fill the gap that naturally formed after such a long separation.
I'm very glad for it.
2 comments:
Good to be brought up-to-date with your world, thanks.
Hope you avoid the beginning of school blues this time.
I'm very happy that you are back, well and that we are part of your world again.
Whenever I read your postings I have the feeling that one day I will say to my grandchildren "I knew her".
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