We were the ones who went to the Cellar and passed around a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, sang karaoke, listened to the band of the guy with the spikey hair.
We spent countless hours in each other’s rooms but this weekend had a difficult time remembering the names of roommates and mens’ dorms.
We dated each other, loved one another, played so many games of Euchre and Apples to Apples
We had next-door on-campus apartments, a scary couch of death, Hamburger Helper in the tiny old kitchen, two beach houses, and a body-shaped dent in the wall.
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In August, Mr. V and I attended a wedding in Boston for one of our best friends from college. We joined up with my best friend Michelle, her fiance – one of our college gang, and another dear friend (both men lived with Mr. V our senior year, and Michelle and I lived next door).
We hadn’t seen the groom in two-and-a-half years, we didn’t even know how he met his bride, but it didn’t matter. He is our Sam, was one of the groomsmen in our wedding, and we needed to be there.
It’s been over seven years since we graduated from college; we’ve lived in two cities and are moving in our fourth home since that time. Seven years of marriage, death of Michelle’s mom, break-ups and get-togethers, several countries and even more states under our respective belts.
Post-college friendships are different. You don’t spend as much time together. You aren’t all removed from family and all former friends. You don’t spend time laying on green astroturf fields, staring at the stars, doing cartwheels, and sharing dreams. You don’t sing numerous duets with your best friend to Broadway songs (and always make her be the guy).
These people are etched so deeply in my heart I can’t unravel them from the rest of my heart’s joys and wants and passions. In an uncharacteristic sappy moment, I hugged the neck of my sweet Michelle, who is moving thousands of miles away, and told her, “My life is better because I met you.”
Maybe we do still sing Broadway songs together. Just not in the same way.
Do you have songs, places, foods that define your college experience? I’d love to hear your reminiscing.
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– if not lower. Mostly I only divulge my studies if I am talking about travel with someone. It makes me feel pretty cool (something I am not) to say, “Oh, well, I’ve been to China, Thailand, Brazil, and Taiwan.”
. No, really. That’s the title! It’s an excellent collection of essays from writers ranging from Anne Lamott to John McCain to Frank McCourt. All share a book (or few books, for those who are like me and can’t make up their minds) that changed them.
. I just don’t get it, I guess.)
by John Irving before (see 
refutes that this actually happens, but I still wonder!), or that he goes back and tinkers with precision once he has determined his characters’ paths, but either way this book has such a sophisticated road to the end it takes my breath away. Above all else, it caused me to think about what I am writing and not just blab on in train-of-thought–although we all know I do that some too.
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I was in a 200 level English class entitled Great Novels with the lovely Susan Heroy. I was flip-flopping around about my major, having discovered that I would need more than a summer study abroad to obtain an International Studies major and not really wanting to go that route. Opening Garcia’s masterpiece led me on a wild goose chase. I scribbled in the book. I asked questions of my professor. I was fascinated by his use of mysticism, smells, colors.
." I would also never get rid of that!]