Being Present

It's nearing the end of my first year at Lee University, and I want to cry.

For weeks I've been declaring how absolutely ready I am for this school year, the classes, the work load, the stress to be over. I've been dreaming of walking out of my last final with a dramatic smirk and smiling eyes (or, as Tyra would say, "smise") that rival that of Joseph Gordon-Levitt at the end of 500 Days of Summer. Yes, I am super excited that the end of the year is finally upon us. However, it's just now hitting me that it's over.

It's over.

My freshman year is finished. I have (almost) completed one year at Lee University. There is no opportunity to go back and start differently. I can't retrace my steps and meet more people or join more clubs. What I have done this year is done, and I'm a little saddened by the finality of that.

Last week, Lee held its long awaited Midnight Breakfast in the dining hall. For non-Lee students, it doesn't sound all that exciting, but any student here knows that Midnight Breakfast means endless hash-browns and karaoke, which actually doesn't sound that inviting even as I'm typing it... Let me assure you, Midnight Breakfast is great, no matter how lackluster it sounds in writing. I arrived late and walked in just as the girls on my hall were dazzling the crowd with a mean rendition of "Baby," by Justin Beiber. As I contemplated weaving through the mass of jumping, screaming people and joining the girls on stage, I decided to just watch. So I did.

I watched the girl who was serenading the guy beside her with a pretend mic in her hand and the other in the air. I saw the three guys in front of the stage who sat atop their friends' shoulders and reenacted to a "T" all the lyrics to The Beibs' timeless classic. I surveyed the students who sat at the cafeteria tables talking excitedly over their biscuits and gravy. I even made note of the kids who wandered around alone, not quite sure where they should go but knowing they wanted to be in the midst of the magic that was happening. I noticed everything that was happening around me and couldn't help but realize how amazing it was. The week before finals and, despite the stress, sleepless nights, and endless studying that awaited us all, almost every student at Lee was involved in this night of silliness in one way or another. And it was because they realized what I'm realizing now: it's almost over, and the moment they were experiencing at Midnight Breakfast would pass just like every other moment had in the past year. It didn't matter what they were doing while there; it just mattered that they were there.

After making these revelations, I waded through the crowd and met up with the girls I just spent the past year of my life living with. And we laughed, like we usually do when we're all together. We sang to each other. We ate. We did things we've done all year, but it was different. It was different because we knew it would be one of our last moments together, and for some reason that made it sweeter.

Some of those girls have already left the hall and headed home for the summer. Some of them are moving on from Lee to start a new episode of their life in another place, and others I'll see again in August. Even with knowing I'll see some of their smiling faces when school starts back, I can't help but feel a little grieved. Our lives will never again be like this. We'll never be idealistic freshmen living in Nora Third North experiencing all our first Lee University experiences together. And while I'm excited to be upgrading to an apartment next semester, beginning a new major, and living with some really great girls, I'll miss this.

I'll miss the 3 a.m. talks in the lounge about everything from underwear to God. I'll miss cramming girls in the lounge to do Jillian Michaels work-out videos, and I'll miss the ever-amusing prank of hiding Suzie (see number four)  in different girls' closets. I'll even miss the nights I lied in my dark bedroom with eyes wide open waiting for everyone to realize it was officially 11 p.m., Quiet Hours.

It's over. But it's not really over.

I'll remember my times with my N3N family often, but if I spend all my time reminiscing next year I'll miss out on making new memories. It doesn't matter if my moments next year are the same as the amazing ones I've had this year because, no matter what, I'll be involved. And, just like all the people at Midnight Breakfast can attest to, being present and grasping onto the new moments is what is important.