Often when I can’t sleep, I flip through photos of my best college friends on Facebook, just to remember. Being tired means being nostalgic, and each picture brought back more than just images.
Jen’s face peeking out from our third floor room to spy on me and my love interest down below. The soft weakness of the North beds. Hot late summer days on the Allgaier deck. The rough feel of orange cafeteria trays. The dampness of my feet all through class on spring mornings. The late night soft smell of mist hanging over the Quad on the way back from the SAC at 2 a.m. The warmth of cookie-baking in South rec on Saturday mornings. The fresh air of open library windows. The frequent slamming of the South door as friends scurried in and out. Racing through West in stocking feet to make it to Sunday breakfast in time, laughing too loudly for all the sleeping girls. Dodging worms all the way back from Pew music hall on rainy evenings. Big blue doors and cheap pianos. Cotton candy ice cream. Sliced fingers and bandages made of hairbands. Parking tickets. Shivering back from Siberia. Wide open windows and the hum of fans. Rough, cold stone patios. Rain, lots of rain. Wind – top-of-the-hill wind.
Maybe someday I’ll remember and finally understand what seminary felt like.