michigan, take three...

I leave in just over twelve hours, and I have not brought my suitcases up from the basement. Every move, I procrastinate the task of transition just a little bit longer.

It's so much easier to face packing this year. And at the same time, I feel completely differently. I don't really have to pack my life into a box, because most of my stuff is in Michigan. I know what to expect there, I'm pretty sure about who I'll be.

Exactly two years ago, I wrote a post which included some of my fears about school:
-failing classes. I am no longer afraid of failing anything at Hillsdale. Classes are always difficult, but I choose to go to a challenging school. I have gained more than my gpa will ever show, but I'm okay with that now.
-hating my roommate. Estherina and I got along just fine, we remain friends, and I'm facing another roommateless year as Head McIntyre RA. No worries there.
-losing connections with people back home. I have learned that you can still love someone even if you only talk to them once a semester. And, though people change and drift apart, you're merely stretching the connection, not breaking. You can always call the really important people, no matter how long it's been since you've talked.
-not connecting with people there. It took me two years, but now, some of my best friends go to Hillsdale. You know who you are.
-running out of money. It has lasted surprisingly longer than expected, thanks to tremendous generosity from outside sources. I'm confident that God will continue to provide for my education. He has made it very clear that I'm suppose to be at Hillsdale.
-not living up to people's expectations. I don't even know what to say. I think I have learned that people's expectations matter so much less than I had supposed. Their trust and respect matters, but people who really love you never expect anything impossible.
-greek. Made it through three whole semesters, kids. Booyah.
-saga food. Saga food and I will never, ever get along. But I have discovered Dj's, Oakley's, Cavoni's, and if everything else fails, there's always food at Suite 334.
-the freshman fifteen. Three words: dance, dance, dance.

A year ago, I went to solemn poetic route.

Packing last year mostly meant leaving. Packing this year completely means returning. My summer was so short, it was more like a vacation. In which I worked a lot, but had some really good times.

Leaving Portland is never easy for me. This city and these people will always be home. I can't really think about it, I just have to get on that plane to Detroit [ugh, early flight] and find a way to snap myself back into that other world. I am always a slightly different person, which makes the jumping back into the space I left a little bit of a tight squeeze.

I'll miss the Statehouse the most of anything.

I just ran out of words. I should probably go pack something...