Lilly

This evening I go into panic mode as I try to catch up and do my share of this group lab report, and correct my physics and astronomy homework to turn in tomorrow, and print out an assignment for linear algebra that’s been weighing on me and my partners for more than a week now, and all of this with three hours to go until midnight. But, you know what? It was worth it. It was worth it for the inside jokes, and the bad puns, and hearing my geology professor swear like a sailor when he missed our exit. It was worth it for being the fastest group to set up our tent (and break it down the next morning). It was worth it, and I decided that when I stood alone on the lakeside, the first one to brave the breath-clouding chill of the air, watching the morning mist roll across the water and thinking, Whatever lies ahead, I’m glad I came.

Because it’s easy to feel like a part of something when the peppers and onions are already sizzling in butter in the skillet, and someone’s job is literally to hold up a pair of flashlights over the stove because the moon isn’t high enough yet to light our way, and later we all sit around the campfire botching jokes until we all retire to our separate tents to curl up on our sleeping mats and play cards. This morning, drinking instant hot chocolate and watching my geology lab professor beat a cooking pot like a drum to rouse my still-sleeping classmates, I finally felt at home. The only other place I’ve gotten that feeling since coming to college is at the observatory, when the lights turn red and the dome creaks ominously as it spins and the massive metal column in the center turns, adjusts, precise and seemingly all-knowing.

I have a lot to catch up on now, and I doubt I’ve endeared myself much to my physics lab group, but I keep telling myself: it was worth it. I still believe it. It’s hard to not like your geology professor a little more when you’ve seen him belt out Grimes lyrics like the best of them. ♦