It happens. And it's finally really begun for me.
I can't exactly describe when it started--maybe somewhere in Japan, or maybe even in the dark on a mild March night in Atlanta. Slowly, over this last year, I've come to see things differently, and the very way I exist in the world feels different. I take responsibility when I don't want to, about mundane things like bills and getting my tires fixed. And some would say it's boring, that adult world, but for now it is exciting. I don't want to order checks, but I do and then I feel good. It's the first taste of independence, which is something I have craved my whole life but never been equipped to handle before. I feel different, living in a house with my friends. We aren't being coddled by the college anymore--we are in this house, paying rent, buying our own food, being. We share dinners together. We are kind and thoughtful and try to do nice things for each other. It's peaceful and a really wonderful place to come home to every day. My room has windows that open onto the roof and I go out and watch the neighborhood happen below me, the kids on their bikes, the adults who never see me, the walkers and joggers and dog-owners in the evenings. I can see the sunset reflected in the windows of the houses across the street.
Maybe it happened on the road to St. Paul. I drove up here, from Atlanta, stopping when I felt like it at stops I planned myself. There was no one else with me--I did stop to see the guys in St. Louis, and to go caving at Mammoth Cave, and stopped to see another friend in Indiana. But it was mine. My adventure. My space, my open road, my traffic to curse. Just me, my thoughts, alone. Georgia, the ugly sprawl of Atlanta like a dead animal across the landscape, the pines and the way the light shines. Tennessee, water, mountains, driving fast, being impressed with Nashville's skyline because I'd never seen it before and it was interesting and sudden and grand. Kentucky, cross the line and slow down because the cops here are supposed to be bad. Rolling hills, horses, the first sign for Mammoth Cave! A cheer, and setting up camp alone, my gigantic 6-person tent because it was the only one we had. I drove for dinner, then came back and slept alone in my tent. I wasn't scared at all--first, because it was a relatively busy campsite, but second because the woods felt welcoming. I wanted to be there and it wanted me there too. And then the cave, the deepest insides of the earth, pushing myself through cracks that you could never expect to fit through, thrusting my body across stone and soft dirt and being proud of the blossoming bruises on my elbows and knees. They prove I worked hard and had a great time. Then Kentucky, the parkway, elation because every time, like magic, I had the correct change. Landscape getting flatter, miles and miles and then furious storms across Indiana, blinding and sudden and loud, I couldn't hear the truck next to me or barely see it, slowing to 55 and then speeding back up 5 minutes later when the sun shone again. Only to slow down again in 5 minutes because the rain struck again, these fast fleeing storms across the flat farms and lands where you can see the sun set forever.
And on into Illinois, tired, see the first sign to St. Louis, hundreds of miles away. It's how you know there's nothing out here. Driving as fast as I could, so tired of the trucks, the madness of 65 to 64 and on and on, a stop in Illinois to fill up on gas and the unavoidable question, "You headin' back to school?", yes, of course, laughter. On and on until I saw the river, and then the Arch. And wondering where the exit to Alan's school was, because the last time I was here I flew. And finding it, but confused about where everyone lived, driving around and around the campus. I was so shaky when I stepped out of the car--no food for hours will do that to you. Push on, push on, get there faster. I stayed for a couple of days, enjoying the company and the sound system and the pranks. And then to Indiana again, more northern this time. Not too long, but shaking again as I got out of the car. He was happy to see me. We went for dinner, and to see some friends to play frisbee-golf. I ran about in great open fields of wet grass barefoot. When I got stares and laughs from him and his friends, I yelled "CIty girl, remember?" Good natured time.
And then beyond, to Chicago, a hell of a traffic jam. Got through, stopped for lunch on the border of Illinois (and oh FUCK the parkway, the toll road, so expensive, spent nearly 8 dollars on it) and Wisconsin. Crossed into Wisconsin, drove and drove and oh, I don't want to stop, watched the Dells go by, strange rock piles by the side of the road, these beautiful fields and farms and open, slowly the landscape rolling again, push on. The first sign for St. Paul! The highways diverged, one back towards Indianapolis (oh, highway signs are strange), one on towards St. Paul. The hills were few but taller than before, could see the landscape sink into the river valley of the St. Croix. It was hazy and dusk and I thought maybe, maybe if I stared hard, I could see the lights of St. Paul. No, but push on, hit 85, want so badly to be there, I can taste it. Wisconsin is too long. It is time to be home. Shaking from excitement when I saw the exit for my school, turned on the road past campus, watched people walk around as I sat at the stoplight. And then home, to my new house, where my friends waited for me and I have my own room that is almost better than my room at home. I am finally home at school.
It was beautiful. It is beautiful.
I will miss college. But I am excited about growing up and being out in the world, seeing the country on my terms, the next adventure.
