Money in my bank account, boxes and bags packed to the max, giddy with the independence I was about to realize, I moved into my freshman college dorm room. (Never mind that it was a conservative Baptist college with more rules than my parents had – I was living “on my own” and that was all that mattered to me!)
I was never shy about raising my hand and asking questions. One morning a friend turned to me and asked “Do you have to ask a question every single class??? It draws attention to us!”
I just stared at her. “Yes. I’m paying for this. I’m going to get everything I can out of it.”
Calendar squares jammed with work shifts, classes, club meetings, and study groups. Double-booking activities. Sleeping a few hours a night for weeks on end.
It was energizing and exhilarating to make my own choices and do what I wanted to do.
But did I actually get everything I could out of it?
I can’t remember much. I have piles of notebooks full of information that I have forgotten. Names elude me. Of all the people I met, I have just a handful I keep in real regular contact with. I’ve forgotten everyone else’s names.
I forgot so much.
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