Dear Shenandoah Hall Room A507,

Thank you. Thank you for being my home for the past 9ish months as I maneuvered my way through adulthood for the first time on my own. You're large window with the broken blinds made just another dorm room seem like a world of possibility by letting the sun into my life even on my darkest days. The cold tile floors that woke me up every morning to drudge myself to 9 a.m. classes, are now a familiar feeling on the balls of my feet.

And it will be strange to wake up in the morning at home to a short walk to the bathroom on carpeted floors. The risen bed which required a little too much effort for me to climb into, made the satisfaction of finally being engulfed by blankets just that much greater than it would have been if my mattress was 7 inches closer to the ground. Your lame excuse for a mattress, has actually turned out to be comfortable, and I've even realized I like it a little more than my bed at home.

The memories I have in that bed due to nights that I spent lounging around in my pajamas binge watching "The Office" or "Grey's Anatomy" with friends, crying to my mom on the phone because the stress of school was too much, accidentally napping through an afternoon class, and grossly downing an entire pizza after having too much to drink on a Saturday night, can never and will never be replaced. There is no where else I feel as safe on campus as I do in room A507.

Sure, it was a pain in the ass moving in, trying to fit everything I own into a room that I had to share with a stranger. It sucked to get locked out while you ran out to grab dinner with a friend and ended up frantically searching the building for an RA to let you in. And it sure was difficult to study on a Friday night while girls drunkenly screamed their way through the hallways. BUT, I wouldn't trade it for anything because all the things in my room make it my own, those RAs helped me when I needed it, and those girls will be some of my lifelong friends.

So when it all comes down to it, the secrets and memories that will forever be engrained in the scratches on the floor, the torn paint on the walls, and the stickiness of unknown substances on my desk are a description of my first year in college. A time that is supposed to be the time of our lives. And without you, Shenandoah Hall A507, this year would not have been the same.

Thank you.

Love,

Caroline