You look out of the plane window, thinking about how when you were a kid you used to always request the window seat. You start to think about how you're still that same kid now. You turn up the music singing through your headphones a little louder, trying to drown out the sound of impending nerves for the new beginning ahead. The time is August, and with a drop of the landing gears and a touchdown of plane wheels, you realize your new life has begun.
Orientation week of your freshman year of college is starting. You know no one. You are moving from states away and all you can do is attend each event hoping that you're wearing the right outfit, saying the right thing and not screwing up everything that may or may not determine the next few years of your life. And then something changes. You meet someone who you click with. And then a few more. And before you know it, you're running through a new downtown area in the middle of the night, looking up at the bright lights and splashing your bare feet through the coolness of the fountains that reflect the dark, star-studded skies above and you know that your life didn't start when you were an infant, or even in that plane, but now.
The time is September. Your classes are in full-swing and you're truly experiencing what it means to work. You may have started trying a new routine, a new class at the gym, a new group of people to eat meals with, a few clubs joined, a semblance of creating habit and normalcy out of all this sensation of newness. You are beginning to realize why you've heard people say that college was "the best years of their life." You look around and hope that it only gets better from here.
The time is October. The leaves have started to change, and you can feel yourself changing too. You hope you look as beautiful as they do. The brisk air around you makes you feel like something big might happen. By now, you know this city. You think you know what you're doing. You have experienced and adventured and gained so much depth in your friendships in the meantime. Midterms have just finished but you know finals are ahead. You spend too much time sitting outside and admiring nature because you know winter is blowing in soon. You smile and let the white sunlight hit your face. You aren't afraid anymore.
The time is December. Bundled up with flannels, jackets, bigger jackets, scarves, hats, gloves and anything else you can find, you step outside. The wind nearly knocks you off your feet and the cold pellets of snow freeze your facial bones to the core. You truly understand the meaning of a brain-freeze now.
As you walk to class, you think about how many realizations, assignments and experiences have hit you lately. You see that you're almost halfway through the school year. You think of how much has changed since you started your life in this new place. You think of all the friendships you've made that have caused you to rethink your entire life.
You think about the fact that you've probably taken more pictures, studied more hours, had more 3 a.m. philosophical conversations, walked more miles and eaten more pizza in these few months than in all of the previous days of your life combined. You think of how you've truly become your most independent self, even when you do accidentally shrink a pair of pants while doing laundry from time to time. You think about how even though the weather is cold, you feel warmer than ever.
You spend your last night in the city alongside the nearby river and on the local subway system, playing music with your friends and getting strangers involved and singing, creating the memories of a night you would all deem a favorite of the semester. You realize you have just created the soundtrack to your college experience thus far.
Going home, you think about how different you are, and you wonder if your family will notice, how they will feel about you, and whether or not you will still fit into the context of your old life.
The time is January, and, back on campus, with everyone around you discussing their "fresh starts" and "new year, new me" statements, you sit back. You realize that your New Year started in August. You smile with the accomplishment of an entire semester of college. You smile because you're finally back to the city that all of your new friends, who are now family, are in. You smile because you are home. For the first time, you even smile because you're excited for school to start. The second semester, you soon realize, is a million times more difficult than the first. You begin to worry that this is how each new semester in college will feel. You take a sharp inhale of the cold winter air.
You exhale with a smile. The time is February. You realize that, just like the first semester, you can get back into a routine. You love your classes and know people all over campus by this time. You have formed a love for talking to strangers. You realize you've probably spent too much time thinking about the cute boys in your classes. You also realize that you probably didn't need to order a "college special" pizza that many times "because it was such a good deal." And you really realize that you should have slept a few more hours last night. You have every intention of getting into that habit... next week.
Your birthday is coming up and you worry about celebrating away from your family for the first time. You end up sitting on the floor of your friends' dorm room eating an inevitable pizza, listening to music and cackling over pointless YouTube videos. You come to the realization that you had nothing to worry about. You learn even more deeply how much your friends at school have become your family, and how you can love them as effortlessly as you can look up at the city around you and know you love where you're at.
The time is March. This is the busiest you've ever been in your life. You begin to see that you really are marching forward, through all of the commitments in school and out of school, through the good and bad days, through the person you once were and the person that you are becoming each day. The business, while overwhelming at times, doesn't drain you, however, but gives you life. You feel better because of the involvement you're feeling for the first time. You are starting to understand that you will be okay.
The time is April. You tell your family with a smile that is failing at hiding that you just registered for summer classes so that you can stay in the city for the summer. You tell them that you have found home, and that you would love if they could come visit, maybe even bringing your dog with them. You tell them that you are not the same person you used to be, and you are all the better now. You tell them that all of your success thus far is because of them and their inspiration.
The time is May and finals are happening. Classes are killing you and the library has become your best friend. You try to focus on school, but can only think how lucky you are for the school year that has just happened and the summer semester ahead. You have always enjoyed learning, but you never expected to fall in love with it. You feel like a nerd admitting this and can bet that your new friends would certainly tease you for making that comment, although they would likely agree.
You realIze that all of this yearlong effort is worth it. You understand that this summer will mark a year of change, a year of new beginnings, your first year of life: your freshman year. You see that through the lens of your living in this past year, you have learned more about yourself in this fast-paced collection of days than in your entire lifetime. You realize that you were fully responsible for the cultivating of your own happiness all along, and you are thrilled with the results.
Before you know it, the time is August again. You take a deep breath and allow the plane of your being to touch down again. This time, you didn't even need the window seat. You already knew you were headed somewhere beautiful.
