this weekend marked ten years out of college.
i returned to Brandeis with trepidation.
i planned on spending most of my time visiting with two current friends and two old friends.
the two current friends are lovely, intelligent, beautiful women who have become close to me since graduation and the birth of my child.
the two old friends are my most favorite roommates.Â Sazz and i were placed together as freshman and were only parted for one year while i studied abroad. Fuzz and i were in the same orientation group and somehow managed to drift into friendship. by the time we were seniors, the three of us were bunking with three others.Â and the six of us were golden. bizarre but golden.
a couple who showered together and squeezed into each others tiny twin size beds for shared sleep.
a gay man who made me laugh so hard i cried and who shared philosophical conversations with the boys in the dorm that went far over my meager understanding of philosophy.
my roomie of old, who taught me how to live a social life, love all things glittery, and painted my nails for the first time in my life.
my buddy from oh canada who could zed with the best of them and showed me that to change the world can be as easy as opening your mouth and talking to a stranger. in my eyes, he is fearless.
senior year. a year of parties, drama (on and off stage), impatience, and love.Â i remember it most fondly of my three years at Brandeis because of my dear roomies…and the hope of moving beyond the walls of campus.
college and i were not the best of friends.Â i remember very little from books which is not surprising since i wasn’t always in class nor cared enough to study much.Â this is what happens when an overachiever ends up in courses far too easy to be truly venerated or far too boring to be loved.Â but i made it through. with honors, no less.
and now it’s ten years later.
i spent a tiring day schlepping my child around campus to show her off to the masses.
i spent an evening dancing with my two favs, arms swinging wide, hair flying, sweat dripping. i danced like i haven’t danced in years. i remembered what is was to dance with people i love.
and then we walked.
and then we talked.
it was grande.
and now, i guess, i can call myself a grown-up.