Moving in: done. Sorting and organizing comes later, but everything that's going to be in my room is there now.
We stopped on the eastern edge of PA last night. Since we'd given up on the Garmin when it wanted us to turn around and go back 10 miles (a decision made easier by the fact that we would go 682 miles on I-80 before the next turn), I excavated the atlas from the crushing overflow of possessions in the car and did a little planning. I wanted to come into campus along Washington Road from the south, instead of the more direct path down 206 from the north.
Between the highway and the bridge over Lake Carnegie, Washington Road is a quiet, elm-lined three-quarters of a mile. It has always been emblematic of school to me - the interlocking branches forming a tunnel through which you shed the bustle and sprawl of US 1 and emerge into the quiet beauty of campus.
Every time I've come back, whether it was after a week or a year off, I've reveled in that passage. There's not much music that can match my exuberance then, but you can be sure I've got it poised on the stereo as I make the turn.
This time was different. In keeping with my superior powers of denial, over the last eight weeks I never got pensive - until those last few miles down US 1.
Mom, whose assistance in the last week has been nothing short of heroic, sensed my tension and tried to comfort me with platitudes. I told her to just hush. Ungrateful in the extreme, I know, but I think she understood.
I've had moments of panic or two in the last six weeks, but they were related to tasks - is all the re-admit paperwork in, do I have enough money left over to cover January bills, will Chris find a roommate so that I don't have to keep paying rent in Wrigleyville, etc.
This was completely different. It was doubt about the entire enterprise. What's possessed me to even try this? I'm not any different than I was five years ago, the last time I failed out. I might have even regressed some. I won't make any new friends, everyone will be too young to relate to, it took me 4 years to do my first JP so getting it down to 1 semester might be a challenge, and the thesis will kill me for sure if I even get that far. I'm out of shape, out of context, and out of my mind.
But I quashed all of it and focused on the drudgery of moving in, and shortly after all the boxes were stashed I made the short walk to Spelman for a buoyant reunion. Johnny D is a fellow wanderer along the path; he and I were in the same incoming class, and he's a senior now, eating independent and slogging away on his thesis over Intersession. The moment I opened the door and saw him was a tremendous relief.
Despite not having keept up over the intervening six years, we're tribe now. Out of the cave, together. His path has been different, and his place now more secure because of it, but still: tribe.
In spite of that, at this moment I'm feeling intensely lonely. Mostly because campus is empty, but still - aside from Jon, no one here knows me or has a reason to want to. It's a bucket of icewater reality to my sleeping face, rekindling my doubts from earlier today.
Ah well. This is the downside of driving and hauling boxes all day, then letting your thoughts roam - the maudlin really comes out.
