This weekend, I am going back to my college apartment for the last time. My last month of rent has been paid and it’s time to move the rest of my things out.
I’ll dismantle my lamp with shelves that used to hold textbooks and college ruled notebooks. I’ll wipe down my bathroom mirror –– where my roommate and I used to write little notes to each other –– with Windex. I’ll take home the dirty toaster that my roommates and I used to make 2 a.m. pieces of toast with. I’ll dismantle our gold bar cart, with shot glasses and open bottles of liquor and leftover seltzer cans.
I’ll take home all of my bed sheets, pillows and leftover winter clothes. My closet and dresser will sit empty, waiting to be used again in August by somebody else. My walls will be ready for the next college student to decorate them with Command Strips and their own photos. My own Command Strip residue will be all that remains.
Each piece of me will be packed into my car, leaving the blank canvas of this apartment for someone else to fill in.
The banner hanging in our living room from graduation will be taken home –– the pomp and circumstance lingering faintly. All the blue and white frosting has been gone for two months now. It’s been two months. Two months of something new and lonely and exciting and terrifying. Two months of being an adult.
But, this weekend isn’t all sad. I’ll be back with my friends, laughing in the familiar lights of our college bars. I’ll wake up in my apartment this weekend, probably with half of my makeup still on and an urge to rot on the couch with an everything bagel surrounded by my friends.
I’ll feel the warmth of State College and its people, and maybe sit on a porch with summer country music blasting loudly. I’ll sit back and embrace that this was once home.
In an incredibly uncomfortable time, it will be nice to feel a sense of home in the midst of job applications and a whole Google Drive folder full of cover letters.
Just like the scene in “Gilmore Girls,” when Rory graduates from Chilton and Lorelai says to her, “it’s not so scary anymore.” While Penn State was once a big leap I took at 18, now at 22, I no longer feel the same nerves or doubt.
This weekend, I’ll feel joy about what happened here. I’ll smile as I say goodbye, and gently close this chapter –– one that I’ve spent so long writing, scratching through and editing. It is now, officially, finished. And thank god I got so many friends, memories and lessons from writing it.
Let me know your thoughts, comments and questions by emailing me at gingerlyons23@gmail.com or typing down below.
Educated Guesses 