Let Go, Hold On

The music of Ingrid Michaelson hums through my headphones, laced with the occasional whirr of the coffee grinder.  I am surrounded by friends, strangers, strangers that I wish were friends.  The cushions on this bench do practically nothing, and I am uncomfortable, but I stay here for hours.  I don’t want to leave, because even though I’m alone, I’m with them.  Hearing the overlapping voices, the intertwined conversations, the laughter peppered throughout.  I will miss this place.  I’ve decided to start saying my goodbyes now.  One goodbye a day, for the rest of this time I have here on this dot of the map that I’ve come to love so much.  Today, I say goodbye to the Student Union, with its ridiculous temperature fluctuations, its eclectic outdated architecture, its lack of sufficient space.  It has become the hub of my graduate school life.  I come here to work, to talk, to eat, to write.  I love running into people here, and enjoying unexpected fellowship instead of working like I “should.”  But really, this is what I should be doing…soaking up every minute with these beautiful, crazy people.  The clock is ticking, and I feel its hands pushing on my back, forcing me forward second by second toward a future that is still blurry, out of focus.  This moment, right here on the bench in the Union, however, is crystal clear and perfect.  And for now, it’s all mine.


One thought on “Let Go, Hold On

  1. The Union was my favorite place senior year, even more so than the art building, for all of the reasons you mentioned. Soak it up, girl; I still miss it often.

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