7:54 am. 5/15/10


after refusing to acknowledge my own alarms snooze for the last 3 7-minute intervals, the acceptance that my roommate would not soon be turning hers off finally roused me from my escape. tumbling out of my bed, i turn the curling iron on before crawling into the shower. before i can dampen my hair, all of my roommates are running around the house, shouting, panicking. we are 22 years old, and this is our graduation day.


i don't know how it got here so quickly, to be honest. i remember the saturday morning, now nearly four years ago, when i led the way to Wright Hall in my rusted out navy pathfinder, affectionately called "basil" until it finally croaked one summer break. mom and dad followed closely behind, and within minutes both our cars had been emptied and all my possessions were in a 12x10 room that i would share with the coldest natured human being i have ever met for the next 9 months.


but that was in the past. now, i was focused on ironing the belt for my dress, having a quick "graduation morning shot" with hailey, and running out the door to embrace the slogan of our soon-to-be-alma mater: FROM HERE TO ANYWHERE!


--
9:32 pm 8/31/10


As it turns out, "ANYWHERE," happened to be two miles down the road from my college house. Graduation came and went, and took with it four of my closest friends to remote corners of the U.S. Over a recent dinner, I explained this unnatural situation as your home being picked up and moved away from you, even though you're in the same place.