How to Say Goodbye
With COVID-19, our days have become undefined. I find myself questioning the day of the week and whether or not I have food in my apartment. It was almost a surprise when I got an email this weekend congratulating my class on making to the last week. I blinked slowly and tried to come to terms with the contents of the email. I am almost done with my undergraduate career.
I'll never forget the first day I walked to classes. I am from a small mountain town in North Carolina and was definitely not prepared for the weather. Backpack sweat was not a problem that I was aware of. I was hopelessly lost like the rest of my cohort, but it was all so exciting. It was strange that I could go anywhere at anytime. It was my first taste of freedom.
I gained friends and created a small group that supported me through my first exam season. I cheered with band members at the basketball games that lead to a National Championship. I rushed Franklin Street for the first time and watched as my roommate jumped over a fire. Looking back, I didn't understand that these moments were truly special. They are not the best of my life (I'm only 21 and hate to think that) but they are special nonetheless.
My favorite memory of my time at Carolina was completely unexpected. In my sophomore year, a foot of snow plopped onto the town of Chapel Hill and the excitement was palpable. I was living in a dorm room and could hear the screams of excitement as classes were canceled. Snowmen were created in parking lots and pizza deliveries were constant. My roommate and I bundled up and walked to Franklin Street.
The streets were pristine white sheets. No cars dared to break through the outer layer of fluff. I was able to walk directly into the street with no worries of being crushed. My roommate fell to her back and began making a snow-angel. After a few seconds persuasion, I followed her. We created snow-angels in the middle of one of the busiest streets in the town. I will never forget moments like these. The unexpected fun.
I'll never forget the first day I walked to classes. I am from a small mountain town in North Carolina and was definitely not prepared for the weather. Backpack sweat was not a problem that I was aware of. I was hopelessly lost like the rest of my cohort, but it was all so exciting. It was strange that I could go anywhere at anytime. It was my first taste of freedom.
I gained friends and created a small group that supported me through my first exam season. I cheered with band members at the basketball games that lead to a National Championship. I rushed Franklin Street for the first time and watched as my roommate jumped over a fire. Looking back, I didn't understand that these moments were truly special. They are not the best of my life (I'm only 21 and hate to think that) but they are special nonetheless.
My favorite memory of my time at Carolina was completely unexpected. In my sophomore year, a foot of snow plopped onto the town of Chapel Hill and the excitement was palpable. I was living in a dorm room and could hear the screams of excitement as classes were canceled. Snowmen were created in parking lots and pizza deliveries were constant. My roommate and I bundled up and walked to Franklin Street.
The streets were pristine white sheets. No cars dared to break through the outer layer of fluff. I was able to walk directly into the street with no worries of being crushed. My roommate fell to her back and began making a snow-angel. After a few seconds persuasion, I followed her. We created snow-angels in the middle of one of the busiest streets in the town. I will never forget moments like these. The unexpected fun.
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