on May 13, 2000, I graduated from Baylor University. It was a day I will never forget. For me it was not just a ceremony, but the end of one of the best experiences of my life. And the beginning of, well, life...reality. Most people celebrate their graduations; I wept like a baby. It was too emotional for me, too symbolic of the fact that I was, in fact, growing up. It meant leaving the closest friends I had ever had, and ending what was probably the happiest four years of my life thus far. Not necessarily the most rewarding, or the most joyful, or meaningful, or important. But as far as sheer happiness goes, those years were hard to beat.
And how could they have been otherwise? College was sort of an extension of childhood for me. It was a safe way to leave home. With my family only six hours away, and everything taken care of for me, I felt very secure. It was hard not to make girlfriends---the place was lousy with them, for Pete's sake! (Although I know the dear friends I made were blessings directly from God.) I was there on full academic scholarship, so (unfortunately) I didn't even feel the pressure to make perfect grades. On a daily basis, I was surrounded with opportunities for activities, interaction, entertainment, involvement, and for lack of a better word, fun. The campus was gorgeous, with beautiful architecture, perfectly groomed lawns, and even friendly wildlife. Sound like an idyllic life? Yep, it was.
On top of all that, the summer between my freshman and sophomore year was when Garfield and I began courting. So compound perfect circumstances, little responsibility, and newfound independence with the euphoria of falling in love, and it's easy to see how a girl could be flyin' high.
Ahhh, Baylor. I do miss those days. It was a sweet season, and one that shaped my life forever.
Surrounded by some of the nicest Bears I know: Sarah, Giselle, Jen, and Katie, at BU Homecoming last October.