The Day that changed my life: Thank God for the British!

It wasn’t the women themselves that my father seemed taken aback by, it was the Doc Martens and long flowy skirts. I have to say, for me, it was the hats that they were wearing. They blew me away. I had fallen in love. It was like me; the aspiring vagabond was looking into her future just watching the two of them walk by.

When I was dropped off for my first semester away at college I remember thinking that I’d be lonely, and definitely afraid. I’m not sure why I thought I’d be lonely, as history had already proven that making friends was easy for me, once I agreed to open my mouth, of course. It was the fear of city living that I worried about, mostly. I hadn’t much experience with the codes of city life. One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t like feeling afraid. 

I think my last post proved that I’d rather face my fears instantly, then wait around for them to prove me a scardy cat. You see I am most hard on myself, as many of us are, but I’m fantastically open and understanding to anyone else’s need to be overly skeptical . I’ll have you know that you have it made as my friend. I’ve always said I should have majored in friendship. I can rock that title all day long.

I, unfortunately, suck at being a friend to myself. Somehow I had convinced my subconscious that life in a new place was going to be friendless. Instead of just reminding myself that taking time and getting used to my new surroundings would be a normal approach to living somewhere new.

I had decided to wallow in self-doubt about my ability to acquire friends. The reality of the situation is that you wouldn’t have known it then or now. I’m totally awesome at faking utter coolness until it feels right.

Was that too much self-assurance in one sentence back there? Maybe. But then again, you’re used to it if you know me at all.

As I look back, walking through that dormitory’s door with my luggage felt like walking into my new life. I think I may have skipped all the way to my room on the third floor. This place was all mine. Mine and 225 of my newest and closest friends’, anyway. Trust me, they were going to be my closest friends.

Do you want to know why? You know you do.

I had initially placed myself in a dormitory which held my last name, however it housed hundreds of students. I thought it would be cool to live in a building that shared my name. Little did I know that the place was pretty popular living for Rush applicants and it filled up fast.

So, off I was to live in the dorm of my next choice. The international and non-traditional student dormitory of the University. It may as well have been called Spring Break Dormitory, because I was overjoyed as I looked around the place. This was gonna be fun!

F. U. N., my friends.

Fun!

I thought at the time by being 20 years old and transferring in from another college that I fit the non-traditional student criteria. I was wrong.

I was Oh so right, it turns out!

It was me, about a hundred other twenty something masters students, and a ton of international students from all over the world. There were a few 50-year-old bakers, as well. Boy, they had a story. I had so much to learn.

Well, the joke was on me. Honestly, God knew right where I needed to be that year.

I love jokes like this one. A lot. Give those to me as often as possible.

I had hit the jackpot.

Ya know, it didn’t take long to unpack Dad’s truck and settle into my room. It’s amazing how a little inspiration and a vested interest can move a girl along.

Middle was busy being envious of my moving away to the city. She would miss me a lot. We’d spent the last two years running pretty tightly with a pack of friends. I’d miss her, too. It actually worked out well, because she came to see me a lot and it strengthened our relationship. Suddenly, I was the cultured sister.

She was always going to be that girl.The girl she already saw me turning into on this trip. Her law degree would place her in the busiest of cities and she would thrive. I’m not exactly sure when our lives crossed and my road became her road, but it’s kinda funny, actually. Now we have a healthy longing for each other’s lives. I think we’re both pretty good at down playing the appeal.

I can remember the youngest of my sisters, Baby, being so worried about how I’d do all alone in this new environment. She was convinced that I was making a huge mistake by leaving home to attend college. She had my wedding songs picked out already. While getting her to fall asleep, I used to tell her stories about me getting married on top of a tractor. She was counting on that story coming true. Imagine how she felt when I brought an architect home for Easter.

Poor thing, I’m not sure she’s ever fully recovered.  She is also a romantic, and I’d whispered one too many stories into her head about how life would look, once I was an adult sister. She hung on every word and believed them to be true. At the time, I did too.

All along though, secretly, I’d hung on every accent, smart boy and interesting face I could find around me. Sadly, they were mostly in the books I’d read. I’ve always been a knowledge consumer and more than anything a dreamer. I wanted to be taken away somewhere through stories.

Here I was about to live with people from all around the world. I couldn’t wait to experience vicariously through them. I was going to hang on their every word. I think they all liked my undivided attention, as well, so it all worked out in the end.

My father had a short list of requests while I walked them out that afternoon.

1. He wanted me to relax and enjoy the first week of class.

2.  Apply for a job on campus, so I could make my car payment on time, preferably working at the front desk of the building. Yes, I was continuously being taught responsibility.

3. Call him, because he’d miss me.

4. Make some friends, he’d finally said.

This is the moment that sticks out in my mind far more than anything else that day: We were walking down the hallway and we passed two British women, both smiled and said hello. My father waved, because he’s a gentleman, then he shot them his million dollar smile.

He likes people, too. I’m my father. This I know to be true without a doubt.

“They seem interesting,” he’d said while looking me square in the eyes.

I’m pretty sure he hadn’t encountered anyone quite like these two ladies. He was used to girls wearing boots, yes, but not military style boots. In that moment, he had decided that the British women wearing black Doc Martens and flowy skirts could possibly be the sort of friends his daughter would be looking for that year. It’s like he knew they’d be coming home with me for Thanksgiving.
Yea, of course, they came home with me. He loved every minute of it, even the Tuna Spaghetti.

Baby and Middle studied me, during those few seconds, and they saw the sparkle in my eyes. It was like they already knew I was gone. I was looking towards them, as well. I fought back the urge to tell them that I’d be okay, and that I knew what I was doing. Even, that this moment was one I’d been waiting for my whole life.

It was time for me to fly. I had people to meet and stories to hear. I was already aware that the people around me would inadvertently change who I was completely.

I was ready for life.