The end of my second year, the beginning of my summer in Charlottesville, the continuation of time spent with people who make spending time worthwhile. It is not time to say goodbye, not yet. There are years left for that. But there aren't many days left in the semester. And there are still good-things left to say.
I'm pretty forgetful. It seems that once I start a routine of forgetting, I can't snap out of it very easily. Sometimes it's OK to forget. It's OK to forget that I already have used up half of my college days. It's OK to forget that the future still makes me feel incredibly small. It's OK to forget about all the moments that aren't very special so there is more room for all the moments that are. But sometimes, forgetting leads to loss. Sometimes I forget at the very instant when I need to remember the most. I lose something. So here goes, I'm going to forego forgetting in exchange for remembering, I will deplete my losses with the glory of my gains. I'm going to remember, right now, to say thank you, so that I can make good-things before my time runs out and I have to say goodbyes.
I brought some of my home with me when I came to U.Va. Because home is who you're with and not where you are, this piece of Gloucester came in the form of my two best friends. We didn't spend an inordinate amount of time together last year; we managed to create niches with new friends in a new place while occasionally catching up at the salad bar at O-Hill. Unfortunately we spend even less time together this year, even though we're only a few doors away from each other in our apartment building. Time has gotten the best of us. We've been separated by it and I find it ever more difficult to bridge the gap from the moment when we were laughing curled up in sleeping bags in my friend's garage to now, when we wave on the street and smile, wanting to catch up but not knowing where to start. Even though our time together has lessened, my love for them has not. Thank you for telling me my story is stupid or my outfit is wrong or my actions are out of place. Thank you for rolling your eyes at my ever-increasing narcissism, for throwing me down to earth when I need it most. Thank you for leaving me and forcing me to create my own new world apart from my old world. And most importantly, thank you for staying right where I need you, a few doors away, a piece of home to carry always.
I've made some new friends at U.Va. Two, in particular, I've become especially close to. So close in fact that they've done the impossible; they've chosen disaster by agreeing to live with me and my sister next year. We all complement each other, I think, in our refusal to do any way other than to the fullest, in our inability to make it to class on time and in our love of all things literary. Thank you for going on adventures with me in themed outfits, on nights that don't call for themes. Thank you for throwing words at me that I have to run to a dictionary to look up. Thank you for helping me realize that as great as she is, there is room for some other girlfriends in my life apart from my sister. Even room for some other roommates.
I've met a few boys at U.Va. And, believe it or not, I've yet to be jaded by the outcome of failed romances. I've learned too much to be bitter. I've met econ majors and religious studies majors and history majors and architects and E-schoolers. I've liked them all, mostly. I've felt a lot of ways for long periods of time, for shorter durations. Bored, excited, nervous, angry, sad. Thank you to the ones who have shown me that as much as I'd like to, I can't change what is. Thank you to the ones who have put up with my antics, my ramblings, my talking Beanie Baby stories. Thank you to the ones who made me feel like I can do anything, and to those who made me feel like I know nothing. Thank you for spending time with me while I try to figure out how to spend my time.
I've needed someone while I've been at U.Va.. I needed her the moment she left me in my dorm, the moment she left me in my apartment, every moment we have to say goodbye. My mother, mama. She's the one who came when I needed her most and who came when I didn't need her at all, just because I'm her daughter and isn't that what mothers do? Thank you for telling me to be responsible, to not cry, to work on my problems, to find a job go to class, don't sleep in. Thank you for always being right, even when I hate to hear it. And thank you for letting me do just what I need to do, having faith it all will work out in the end.
Sissy. She knows what I'm going to say before I say it because although we're not telepathic we're pretty damn close to it. Thank you for never letting me pity myself, "you're normal, get over it." For telling me that all good things come to those who wait. For being the big sister when I'm stuck in little-sister woes. For following me in the dark even when I told you to go away, to let me be, to leave me alone. And you followed, a few steps behind, muting your footsteps, never leaving me alone.
Mary Scott's column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at m.hardaway@cavalierdaily.com.
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