Boxes, bins, garbage bags, and totes—It’s moving season! Sitting in my dorm, I can hear the moving of furniture on all sides, preparing to strip down to white walls and tile floors before we all leave next week. If anyone told me I would be sad to leave a cold, colorless box I had to share with another person after nine months, I would have called them crazy. Yet, turning my room into a home through its inhabitants and memories has been one of the best parts of coming to college.
First, there is my roommate. This room would be nothing without her. Who else would I rather have to come home to in a strange place after a long day? When she’s gone, I feel lost. I fill her Snapchat inbox, send her memes, and pretend she’s just buried in her covers so I don’t feel like I’m alone. Having my own room suddenly isn’t quite as appealing after months of sharing with my best friend. Some are not so lucky in the roommate situation, but together we have created a safe place for each other to escape from college life. Her décor fits well with mine, which is a plus, of course.
Through adding our own personal touches during the year, the room evolved into more than just a space to sleep. But rather, the room a stamp of our own human development – artwork, concert posters, and letters from friends and family are displayed alongside pictures of us and people we love. We abandoned all use of the creepy, fluorescent lights provided for us to rely on natural light and lowly lit lamps. We adjusted well enough to the point of being near-vampire. Here is a picture I took during one of the few times our overhead light was on:
Because the harsh, concrete vibe was diminished by our personal touches, our room became a place for others to come and hang out, watch movies, or sleep on our carpet when their roommates were being crazy. We listened to good music we’d never heard before, and discussed how completely and utterly strange it is for us to feel closer to each other than we’ve felt to those we’d known for years prior to making the transition to a university.
Realizing it is not the room that is significant, but the people who enter, is essential to moving out of any place – whether it be a childhood house or a college dorm. Carrying out the boxes does not include packing away the memories because they live within each person uniquely. Those memories play out again day by day in little ways, like sending animal videos to your friends that are now states away for a few months. They do not disappear; they just migrate.
As I migrate back to Missouri for the season, I am thankful to have had all of the experiences that Belmont and Nashville offered me. Plenty of life lessons will flash before my eyes as I walk out the front door of my residence hall; I only hope to ensure that those lessons will stick with me much longer than the places I learned them.