And then I'll grow up, I suppose.

Since about age five I've done little other than be a student, but in six months I'll be an adult, I guess. Or someone posing as an adult because really, being an adult sounds so stuffy and boring.

In six months I'll listen to a lot of speakers commending me on my four years of work and telling me I have such potential in the world. I'll walk across a large stage in the basketball arena and try not to break into the fight song. People will clap. There will be an unnecessary amount of photos taken of myself holding a diploma and wearing a robe that makes just about everyone look terrible. I'm sure there'll be hugging, laughing and maybe just a little bit of crying.

I'll take my parents all around campus, showing them my favorite spots; the giant vents I jumped off freshman year when I almost broke my ankle, all for the sake of a photo, my favorite spot to study in the library, and the Performance Hall, one of the coolest buildings on campus. We'll drive down to Federal Ave and 100 East to eat and see where my favorite place to listen to jazz used to be. And of course we'll eat ice cream followed by two of us complaining of stomach aches due to that pesky lactose intolerance we always seem to temporarily forget. After there will be packing of many things, donations to the thrift store and a whirlwind of emotions. When the car is ever-so-professionally packed (the dynamic duo have a lot of practice at this), I'll drive. Somewhere. Somewhere yet to be decided.

I know I'll be happy wherever I end up (Of course fingers are VERY much so crossed for the City) but I'll certainly never forget this place. I learned a lot, laughed a lot and finally figured out which directions the mountains face (It's a trick question. They face both ways). I met a lot of people, some I liked and some I didn't, and refined my dance moves and ability to make any theme into a really great themed party. I learned how to live with females that aren't my sisters, that I wasn't meant to eat "college" food and the importance of snow tires. And somewhere in between I also learned a little bit about myself.

But the best part? That's the part that comes next, the part I don't know.


Melanie Burr said...

Nicole, you're not allowed to write something like this yet. I'm gunna start tearing up. you're so right in many ways I love you!

Funk Master B said...

Hooray in 6 months! Maybe on the way to the city you can come to the "wannabe city" for hot cocoa and tim tams.

Karlie said...

um, I loved this. As cheesy and school-ish as it sounds it was really well written! ha (I feel like I'm grading your blog... I'm not! ha) But you are great :)

steve and emily said...

Was that a tear running down my cheek? Wasn't it just yesterday that you had need of a super cool chaperon while your parents were away? You grew up way too quickly. So excited for your next big leap! Look out Manhattan here she comes.