When it comes to going home after a year at Cuse, that citrusy taste turns bittersweet. For me, I know I'll be coming back in a few short months, but I also know when I come back it will be my last year at Syracuse University. I'm neither prepared nor ready to accept that reality. Currently packing up my junior year, I'm looking at various things in my room encompassing my year. Like the birthday card with a sloth on it my best friend gave to me, my anchor decorated by my amazing little, my Shakespeare play for the class I still need to finish that research paper. There are so many memories in my tiny single, nights of crying, nights of pregames before formals and it's all packed up into boxes and put in my car.
I think that's one of the hardest parts about saying goodbye to this place. Even in one room you can make so many memories. Syracuse isn't just another party school, it's not only the place that defied the odds by making it into the final four, for a lot of us Syracuse is a home away from home. Here, we find our brother's, sisters, future bridesmaids, and back-up husbands. Syracuse is not only a place where we come together because we bleed orange, we come together because this is the one connection we all have. All 14,000 of us (or something like that).
For me, packing is always the toughest part. I'll start through clothes into boxes, listening to my Spotify then a song will come on that just hurts my heart and I'll sit on my floor, that I really should vacuum, and cry. For me, it's usually '500 Miles' by The Proclaimers. Just listening to those lyrics, it really does hit you, trust me. But honestly, packing is the worst. Like I said, we're packing up the memories made in our tiny rooms, apartment buildings, hallways and lounges. Saying goodbye to a person is one thing, saying goodbye to a place is another.
The worst part for me about leaving this year is that I know each end of the year is closer to the last one, and this next year will be the last. I have to get to making my Syracuse University bucket list, finding a job, and making up believable lies to put on my resume. I'm not looking forward to it, but I also cannot wait to leave just so I can come back. That's the one thing that keeps me going. Leaving Syracuse, I know that I will always have this place to come back to and call it home, a family to open it's arms to me weather dressed in Orange, or Bronze, Pink and Blue. I guess the old cliché is right — parting truly is such sweet sorrow. 'Til next year, Cusey.
