First I said, "I love seeing the Freshmen. Some with braces, with BYU t-shirts they bought today or yesterday at the bookstore, some with little-kid skinniness-especially around the elbows. I think they're so cute. So surprisingly little."
Imaginary person said, "I love seeing them taking pictures in front of the statue of Brigham Young. You do have a gorgeous campus, you know."
"It is nice, isn't it?" I said (nonchalantly, of course).
And it was, with the sun dappled leaves casting polk-dotted shadows and green and flowers everywhere.
And suddenly I realized something.
For real.
Even though I've known it for ages.
Next year at this time I won't have any excuse to buy bouquets of sharpened pencils, or go school shopping, and if I'm walking down a tree-lined street surrounded by the brilliance of orange leaves...
I won't be walking to or from school.
I might be hanging up a newly acquired diploma inside my newly acquired apartment, which could be anywhere. Literally anywhere in the entire world.
Except for the changing of the seasons, I abhor change.
Even when I moved from pre-school to elementary, elementary to middle, middle to high and high to university... they were all schools.
I've been going and doing and working and hating and loving and thinking about school for as long as I can remember and even though I am excited to be done...
I am also not.
How can I just turn the school switch off?
Flick. School no longer exists.
And suddenly I am one of those seniors.
And I do own a rumpled plaid shirt and chic leather book bag to swing over my shoulder. I have glasses that are too big for my face because I think they're cool, and I am a pro at giving condescending looks to freshman when they ask for directions while still telling them exactly how to get to their next class.
When people say to me, "Oh have you had so-and-so as a professor?" I can say yes or no, and yet still give them satisfactory information on said professor either way.
Because I've been here.
I have been here for years.
Three years.
I left home and never went back.
And I did all my growing up here.
I became an adult (at least mostly). I figured out who I am.
I found the best friends I'd ever had in dorm rooms and the best friend I'll ever have in my husband.
I got married. and I found out (even more) who I am.
I started becoming (as Lana likes to call it) "The fullness of Becky" when I met my second half and became a whole person.
I found out what I wanted to do with my life. I realized what I love to do and that I am capable of doing it.
I started dressing myself in clothes that I liked because I liked them, and not because I wanted to portray a certain image or be like someone else.
Oh, I've stopped trying to be like other people! That is a big deal!
Yes, I still look up to other people and try to develop in myself qualities I admire in them, but I've stopped blinking more than is usual because I saw someone do it and wanted to see how I felt about it.
I've stopped walking with the stupid posture that some girls in high school used to walk with, and which I mimicked because I was stupid too.
I've stopped buying clothes at Thrift stores because hip people do that and realized that (except under special circumstances) I really like clean, neatly folded clothes arranged by color and style and the DI is not that good of a deal for stained, pre-used clothes that I usually have to alter anyway.
I've stopped making up excuses for myself when people come over and I'm reading Winnie-the-Pooh or Harry Potter.
Because I love children's books.
That is all the excuse I need.
No. It is not for a class.
It is not because I'm stupid and cannot read literature written for adults.
It's not because I feel the need to read what I want to write.
It's because I love it.
And I've realized that even if I don't love grades, tardies, the testing center, or generals that I do not find pertinent to myself...
I do love school.
Although, don't expect me to admit to any such thing in a few weeks once classes start.
Because I do not love school work.
**Also, much of my thinking stemmed from this post from Julie.
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