boxed memories

last night, after a weekend of thanksgiving-and-birthday-induced bliss, i couldn't sleep. i didn't want to come back to cedar today. i knew my mom would cry, just like she always does, when i left and i knew that upon entering my little apartment, i'd feel like i'd never left. so, while everyone else was asleep, i sat in my old room and went through two boxes of memories i've kept stored under my bed.
i thought it would be more emotional than it was. i thought opening the boxes full of photos, letters, and keepsakes of my college life would hurt a little, but it didn't. not in the ways i had anticipated. there's stack of two years' worth of letters all grouped together. they've got sloppy illustrations of donuts both on the pages and the envelopes, silly stories, and pictures of ties and other elements of a mission. i wanted to read them and be sad that the life i had envisioned for myself hasn't materialized, but instead i was reminded that this is what i really want to be doing. i also thought that reading these letters would make me see that everything i had "read between the lines" wasn't there. that a younger me, and my friends, had added something that wasn't really there. but that didn't happen either: it was there. i thought maybe it was time to shred these letters and let them go, but then i realized that even if they aren't a part of my future, they are a big part of one chapter of my life, and for now, i like that they are safely tucked away in a box under my bed.
what made me emotional was the larger box that i wrote about over two years ago here. it was those photographs of people i still miss, moments i had forgotten, sweet notes telling me i'm loved, and door decs from, what i still think of as, one of the best years of my life. the girls from my juniper c300 floor will graduate this year. some are married, some have babies, some have transferred universities, one is serving a mission--they live their own lives. and whether or not they realize it, my life was dedicated to them and their success. it makes me incredibly happy to see them happy and fulfilling their dreams. i miss them. i miss those moments and the happy, bubbly, juniper i will always remember. the empty, dark halls of a closed residence hall are potentially one of the most depressing things i have experiences.  it was a christmas card from my best friend, who i still feel like i gave up for a year when i became an ra, was the final straw. i flipped through the rest of the contents trying not to drip tears on these treasured items.
i went to bed thinking about felicity. in a matter of weeks, i watched 4 seasons of the 90s college experience drama series. while watching them, the last five episodes irritated me as the title character went back in time to see what her life could have been like. yet, after everything ended tied up neatly with a bow, i really started thinking about what decisions i would change about my college experience. i reeled though 'what ifs' and the most plausible route would have led me to being a high school language arts teacher, probably married, falsely religious, and family oriented. really, there's nothing wrong with that, and i'm sure that i would have found happiness in that journey. but this is my path, and it may not be perfect, i maybe missed opportunities, tossed out the girl i was supposed to be, but i'm pretty sure i'm headed where i should be.
this was the quote that stood out in my mind: "your story's not over-- just this chapter. what you made here, it will always be a part of you, but you have to finish it." -- felicity, 2002
i have another chapter about to close. the final suu chapter. it's just about time to move a third and fourth box under my bed.