I write this post from one of the BYU ten - minute computer kiosks in the RB (Richards Building). I came here to take advantage of the free exercise equipment before they realize that I am no longer a student but a BYU alum. How quickly I forgot, however, that Tuesdays are devotional days and the entire campus is shut down for its weekly spiritual feeding, including the gym.
It's strange to walk the grounds of my alma mater so soon after leaving. (Even stranger to forget about devotional.) It's disconcerting to be here and not a part anymore. With no classes to rush to, no papers to print, and no place for me in the line of the testing center, I feel an odd combination of nostalgia, relief, and despair. After all, this was home once.
I remember the first few moments here. I was filled with excitement, anticipation, and anxiety as my parents and I drove through Provo Canyon from Park City. I had walked through campus as a visitor before, bowled at the Wilk, drove past the sign, dined at the Creamery, but never as part of the institution. It was difficult to believe that I was actually a BYU Cougar. It was terrifying actually. I didn't know my roommate, my dorm, or my surroundings and I had never even traveled outside of the state of Texas for more than two weeks at a time. It was all happening so fast but I knew I was ready.
My parents left and the first day of classes came. I was so unprepared. By the time I walked to campus, my feet were blistered from the "cute" shoes, my ill - fitting bra had slipped around my back, and my trendy messenger bag had cut deep notches into my shoulders, exposing tender flesh. With tears clouding my vision, I began to study my schedule. My first class was in the JSB ... There are close to one hundred buildings on campus, each with its own confounding acronym. That's when the panic set in. As I watched the other confident students, sure of where they were headed, I knew I didn't belong. It was time for me to go home.
My parents had some different ideas, however. Tuition was paid after all, and BYU had always been my dream. They promised that after a semester, I could come home. Rice University and my old bedroom were waiting. I just had to make it four months. I could come home.
I have to go now. The computer time reminder keeps blinking to let me know that there is someone else waiting for a turn with this computer. My time is up and it's someone else's turn. I may not be ready to go or done with this post but it's time for the next thing. Life seems to have a way of doing that.
I'm still coming to terms with this graduation thing. Who would have guessed how much I would want to hang on. I'm nervous to experience walking my first child down the hall to kindergarten. I have a hard time saying goodbye. I'm grateful though, for the time spent here and the home BYU was for four wonderful years. It's become a part of my personal mosaic and I wouldn't trade the experience.
I'm not sure if I'm more proud of myself for graduating or proud for being a part of BYU. Either way, I'll always hold on to my BYU experience.
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