I had this weird thought as I walked past the Senior Bench the other day that I am now a senior and therefore may sit on the Senior Bench without fear of breaking some Long-Dead-But-Potentially-Resurrectable Tradition about not graduating on time or incurring the wrath of Actual Seniors.
It’s not like I was ever afraid to sit on the Senior Bench before – actually, Bird and I have a tradition of getting a picture together on the bench every time she visits me at school, and she doesn’t even go to college yet, much less this college. There were never any passing Actual Seniors who snarled at me or threatened to drum me out of the student body. I’m pretty sure half the people sitting on that bench at any given time are freshmen and sophomores, just because upperclassmen are too busy.
But it’s odd to think that that’s who I am now. An Actual Senior myself. I find myself with a case of nostalgia for the experience I am still in the middle of. Mourning the coffee shops I still have months to visit. Hugging my friends just a little too tight. Grasping at the familiar walkways with curled toes inside my shoes as though I’m trying to make them stand still when I’m the one moving.
College is coming to a close. Slowly, yes, and not unexpectedly, but still.
The Grammar Changeling 