I miss college exactly as much as I thought I would. Way too much. Not because I'm itching to go back-it's too soon for that-but because I know I probably never will. In fact, in all likelihood I will never again be just on my own again. I knew this before I left, and so far I've been remarkably good at blocking out the "nevers" that inevitably pop up when you say goodbye, but it's weird how they sneak up on you.
How do you become so attached to a place? I'm going to miss the rocks and bricks and ivy between them, the wobbly wooden boards on the stairs in the winter, the smell of cold weather approaching. I'll miss my drafty window that never opened or closed all the way. I'll miss sitting near the window on the seventh floor of the library with the topmost leaves of the trees outside surrounding it. I'll miss the stench of the information commons when people start to sacrifice hygiene during finals week. No really, I will. I'll miss seeing people napping on sofas behind the reference room and on the window seats that look down on the atrium. I'll miss the path along Lower Lake with its snappy twigs and puddles and over-enthusiastic members of the running club who jog past me at least three times on my walk. I'll miss getting my feet and hair wet walking in the rain to go get dinner and then spending three hours in Blanchard complaining about the three minute walk to my friends. I'll miss going to Main Moon in bad weather and seeing the familiar Chinese Horoscope placemats and cheap Asian decorations and ordering chicken rice soup. I'll even miss Blanchard. I'll especially miss Blanchard. It's probably where I've had the most number of conversations with friends. I'll miss walking back to my room late at night with my music on and dancing around in my room because there's nobody there unless I want them to be. I'll miss eating brunch in my pyjamas and discussing the events of the past week over too much chocolate sauce and mini marshmallows. I'll miss the roads and paths and trees in possibly the only place in the world where I can walk a couple of miles without getting lost.
I'll miss knocks on my window and knowing it's going to be a friendly face.
I'll miss walking down the corridor whenever I need to talk, complain, or share instant noodles with someone.
I'll miss messages on my white board and facebook wallposts making dinner plans.
I'm not even going to say I'll miss my friends. That's the part you don't say. Though I will say that I'm afraid that things will never be the same again. I've seen how adults living their own lives are with old friends. Or rather, how they aren't. Maybe we won't, with all the benefits of technology at our fingertips and all that, but then again maybe we will.
I'll miss knowing what will happen next. I'll miss that a lot.
I'll miss the knowingness that today is Tuesday and I will go to work at 2.30pm and set up snack for when the kids come back from school. I'll miss knowing that next semester, I will take sixteen or twenty credits, that in October I will be burnt out and in January I will be home. I'll miss spring break.
I'll miss the Pioneer Valley. I'll miss the PVTA and going to Amherst and seeing other students on the bus and knowing where they're from, or where they're going. I'll miss having so many professors around. I'll miss the guilt associated with not recycling or bringing a reusable bag to Target.
I'll miss that heady sense of being able to do anything. It's gone already. I didn't think it would leave me fast, or that happy ambition would be replaced with Karachi-flavoured pragmatism (pessimism?) so soon. Apparently, I'm supposed to "go where no one else will go/do what no one else will do", but ironically, I only feel capable of doing such things when I'm with others who feel the same. I'll miss being surrounded by people who can do anything. I'll miss being surrounded by people who are women.
Yes, I'm in withdrawal. 600 words later of what was intended to be maybe a passing glance at my sadness I should probably admit that. In fact, I can probably think of another 600 words to write in the next five minutes or so. Not that I'm not happy. I always feel the need to explain that I'm very grateful. That I know how to count my blessings and look forward to the next thing. But I think sadness is allowed. Goodbyes are sad. Goodbye.