|Holding my college's publication, Campus Chronicle|
While my mother was visiting we took a serendipitous trip to my Alma Mater. It had been nearly two years since I had last visited - part of me had wanted to visit, and another part of me was resisting it. I knew that many changes had taken place since I had left, and I was worried that I would feel like a stranger in that was really one of the true places I considered home.
|H&M metallic sweater, F21 belt, DIY skirt, Old Navy flats, Banana Republic silk scarf, Anthropologie purse that I bought while attending this college!|
I am so lucky to have attended college in such a beautiful area. Nestled in the heart of the Napa Valley, tucked in between mountains and ever changing leaves of the surrounding grape vines, Pacific Union College will always have a (large) piece of my heart. When we arrived, all the familiar scents of the trees and fresh air brought me crashing back to all my experiences. I did so much growing up on this campus; and with that came many growing pains. Of course there were fun times too: Christmas caroling (bikinis and Uggs!), voice lessons in Paulin, Marla and our adventures as roommates, being the default "free guest" with Mr. Morphis on class museum trips in the city, Taking every history class Dr. Douglas offered (only 5 classes short of a major - why? Because she didn't teach those 5 classes), Megan and our live Christmas tree, and of course churning those 10 page Honors class paper out 5 hours before they were due ...
When I saw many of the renovations, it actually brought me close to tears: not only did I not recognize any of the students faces, I now no longer recognized many of the once familiar places on campus. When I visited my beloved faculty, it took them a few seconds to remember me (maybe it was the hair?). I could feel a knot in my stomach begin to grow: was it true? Could one never return home? What had once been mine: my dorm room, my spot in the cafeteria, my job of 4 years at the Rassmussen Art Gallery - now belonged to a new generation of students.
I eventually ran into a friend - quite possibly the last familiar thread in the woven tapestry of future and past. While I don't know the answer to our ability to return home, I will have to hold on to the hope that home rests in memory: the ability to see and remember; to know that perhaps home isn't a physical place, but a space in our hearts.