As soon as I step out of the building I realize how strange I look.
I am on my way to a wedding, and I’ve pretty much mastered the technique of driving without A.C. and still looking mostly put together.
My makeup is done
I have a nice black dress on with some pearls I haven’t worn in a while
Heels in hand, I walk comfortably down the hill in worn brown sandals, my hair braided back in pigtails.
I see one of the camp staffers do a double take, and it takes me a second to realize why: I look like a maniac. Half of me is completely prepared for the wedding, and the other half won’t be put together until the car ride is finished (because who really enjoys riding in heels, or doing your hair only for it to get ruined by open windows?).
As a side note, I really love driving in North Georgia. Scratch that, I love living in North Georgia. I can’t say I don’t miss the beaches, the familiar roads, and all my favorites Florida spots, but after three years of calling Georgia home, I can say without hesitation that it truly is. The curves and hills that once made me nervous are now common, though my car has had an increasingly hard time getting over them. Bird calls echoing in the mountains long before I see the sun, cold rain storms that cling to the trees and leak out across the valleys, secret swimming holes filled with freezing freshwater, and I only have 3 semesters left. Granted, most of my friends only have 2, and my 3rd will be spent abroad, but it seems just as I’ve earned the right to call this beautiful place my home, I’ll be moving on.
So as I’m driving back through the mountains from the wedding, cursing myself for not bringing make-up wipes with me because I only enjoy it for the first 20 minutes or so and after that I’m just focused on remembering not to wipe it off, and I’m wishing I wrote more of it down. The memories, that is.
When I first moved 10 hours away from my family, a wide-eyed, eager 18 year old, I took it all in through experiences. Every moment of that first year was packed full with meeting new people, finding new places: “go, go, go, don’t stop because if you do, it all might disappear. You’ll blink and you’ll be graduating.”
And I’m very grateful for those experiences… I just don’t remember them half as well as I wish I did. I wish I had taken the time, at least once a week, to write it all down. All of the firsts that I no longer remember, like who was the first upperclassmen I met? Or when was the first time I had a boiled peanut? How long did it take before I had timed how long it took to walk to each of my classes? Who was the first college friend that I cried in front of? My friends are really great at filling in the blanks for me, but still… I wish I had written it down.
So now I’m on the edge of my Senior Year, and I’m promising my future self to dive in and take advantage of every moment… and write down as much of it as I can. Because experiences are even better when I can remember the small details that bring me back to the exact moment.
As always, thanks for reading my wandering thoughts!
Happy Friday! 🙂