Nostalgia

I was driving by Carroll College today and noticed that it must be orientation weekend. Watching all the cars and vans full of mini-fridges, banana chairs, area rugs, optimistic teenagers and tearful parents, I was nostalgic for the day my parents dropped me off at Craig Hall, Rm 224, at the U of M.

I remember that day perfectly. I’d been staying with my brother for a few days leading up to the big move, drinking mostly and getting to know his older guy friends. My parents came to collect me and get me moved in. My cousin Heidi’s parents came over to check out my new digs and give me Heidi’s info (which I assumed I’d never need beings she was the girl who liked babysitting all her cousins at all family functions). I saw my future roommate outside the dorm, and somehow knew that was her...even though my brother insisted that Amanda would “be a stinky hippie” if she was from Washington.

I was so excited to be out of Westby, ready to tackle the big world of college. I had no idea what I wanted to study, and everyone around me seemed like they knew exactly what they wanted to do. As all the girls on my floor kept popping into our room to introduce themselves, I became more and more excited. For the first time in my life, I could actually have a choice of who to hang out with. Coming from Westby (graduating class of 9 as Amanda would remind me over and over again over the years), I felt like I could finally be myself and wanted to really grow as a person.

However, mostly I learned new and creative ways to slack off and that skipping classes on a hungover Thursday morning or a sunny afternoon is one of the best feelings in the world, how to find a fake ID, that a simple tube of chapstick can get you into a bar, double cheeseburgers at 2 am from Hardees is the most delicious of eats, my body was not built to withstand keg stands or beer bongs, making out with all of your brother’s friends is not a good idea but it can be fun, keep a watch over your little cousin Heidi and don’t let her pass out in someone’s yard and wander home, if one of your closest friends tries to help you mop up the entire super sipper cup of vodka you just spilled on the floor, it’s best you let her, among many other things. I miss college!

Note: this started out going to be a poignant piece about growing up, losing that idealism that you start out your life with, etc. But I'm just a kid from Westby, MT who drank her way through her Freshman year...who am I kidding?