Whether you graduated 30 years ago, or still have 3 more to go, properly missing Saint Mary’s isn’t that much different in how it’s mastered. Let it begin slowly. Let there be a feeling of a gradual escape, an escape that you’d prefer not to take, but that you cannot say no to, because reminiscing is worth it. Lay in bed at night, flat on your back, with a hollow feeling in your heart. Dismiss this as a product of out-of-routine summer habits, work-related stress or rather, a decade of life’s distractions. Recognize that this, though, isn’t the feeling of Saint Mary’s, because Saint Mary’s doesn’t hurt you.
Wake up in the middle of the night, the nights where you’re lonely, where you surprisingly find yourself missing the sound of the sketchy creaks in the LeMans walls. Sit up and say ten Hail Mary’s, because Holy Spirit Chapel isn’t around the annex. Lay back down. Feel that hollowness resurfacing, your heart beat is loudly alive. This must be stress because Saint Mary’s doesn’t scare you.
Check your phone. It might be two a.m., but if it’s Thursday, you should really be at Fever anyways, right? Remember the Thursdays you stayed in. Recognize how disgraceful this is, and tell yourself you’ll be less lazy next semester. Or tell your daughter said piece of advice, because missing a Feve is borderline a sin. Since that’s definitely one place an alum isn’t entirely accepted.
When was the last time you looked through all those pictures from the first football game of the season? Remember each time you complained about the walk over to ND. Unearth receipts from post-game Chipotle, don’t throw them away, add them to the pile of Belmont receipts, too, because Saint Mary’s doesn’t judge your typical Belle habits.
Check lists. Things to do, things you’ve done, see people you still need to reach out to, those expecting a reply from a while back. Connect with them, so you can remind yourself how lucky you are to have Saint Mary’s. Feel your class ring as you put your hands in your lap. You’ll smile more, and the person you’re talking to will be more convinced that their story is actually funny. Make lists of the Saint Mary’s girls near you. Befriend them. Because if you smile at a Belle who opened the Angela doors for you, she probably smiled back. There’s no fear in setting up a lunch. Especially if you can snap a class ring pic, it makes the entire thing worth it. You know Gwen O’Brien would put you on Instagram real quick. Giggle to yourself, because you know you always feel lowkey famous when featured. Think of the President Mooney and husband George bobble head sitting in storage. Cringe when you think of the smell of that storage unit, kind of similar to the smell of post Finni’s Vesuvio’s. Cringe some more when you remember the first time you went to “the blarney stone”. You texted one too many of those guys across the street, and some of their responses weren’t all that nice. Try to fall asleep peacefully, knowing it’s all actually okay now, thanks to your Belle squad. Because at least Saint Mary’s doesn’t even sometimes disrespect you.
Wake up feeling chilly, like the air around you is similar to that of a February fog over Lake Marian. Dread taking a shower because something about the hot water against your skin doesn’t mix well with cold air when you get out, you know this all too well after living near the elevator in McCandless. So close, yet so far from both North and South showers.
Eat, or try to. Anything tastes better than Sodexo, yet, for some reason, you just can’t make a sandwich as well as Milton could. Remember when he was transferred to Notre Dame’s dining services. Laugh at the petition your group text wanted to create, but never got around to doing. Probably a good thing, for Milton’s sake. Forget your Starbucks this morning, remember the Cushwa-Leighton coffee machine. It kept you trekking along during those long nights in Trumper. Curse the Cyber kitchen for closing so early right when you started craving chicken tenders. But right now, that’s not even what you want. You’re hungering for something, but it isn’t food. Because Saint Mary’s doesn’t starve you.
Spend days aimlessly and recklessly. Do nothing that you should be doing; do nothing that you need to do. Wonder at 4:30 where your day went, remember when you used to be a grandma and go to the dining hall with all your friends at this time. Remember getting hungry again at 9, that time now being when you curl up in bed and watch Gilmore Girls. Remember when you first watched it straight through, when you’d yell at your roommate for having it on when you’d walk in from class. It was always an episode you hadn’t gotten to yet. Recall how you two dramatically shouted “ahhh” as she fumbled for the remote, all so nothing would be spoiled. Resolve to re-start all 7 seasons tomorrow, because your roommate would be proud. You miss her. The feeling won’t leave, it’ll linger, it’ll consume tomorrow and the day after and every day from then on. So you’ll call her and it’ll be two hours of your iPhone over-heating and losing battery life. But take out your headphones, isn’t she worth your walk home? Dread the night, when all is still and soundless and you are alone with your thoughts to remind you of the exciting life you lived…2 weeks ago or 2 thousand weeks ago. Feel like you are the only person in the world awake. You’re bored, so you read your sophomore year journal. Suddenly, your dark room has lit up. Nothing keeps you from smiling in this moment. Because you remember that Saint Mary’s doesn’t bore you.
Feel your heart sink when you see those formal pictures, your chest tightening. Sit up because you just can’t look. Remember that date who you had a great time with, who now you don’t even know. Find all the reasons not to miss that time you made a fool of yourself. Remember every reason. Exhaust them. You know what it is now. You had your Belles right by you to get you through it. They knew that a walk down The Avenue was all you needed. That time has ended, but you won’t forget it. Lose your every desire to relive it, because you did that part perfectly. The wings of LeMans saw you cry. Remember that. So let it hurt you for a second. Let all rational sense disappear. Bring yourself back to the time you sat in Spes trying to participate in a class of 14 of your closest friends, professor included. Remember when they knew something was up with you. Remind yourself how much better they made you feel, remember how class was paused to attend to your weirdness. Appreciate that moment. Remember how great this made you feel, but how, in that moment, this didn’t seem out of the ordinary for a professor to do for you. Because Saint Mary’s doesn’t think you’re a number.
Do something destructive. Be out of control, reckless, ruthless. Just for a night. Because when you get back to Saint Mary’s, you want to be perfect. You want to be the best you can be, because you are. In the eyes of Saint Mary’s, you’re wonderful. You’re brilliant. Recognize how horrible you feel as you act out of control and reckless. Understand why you never do this. Because you hate it. You like being a Saint Mary’s woman. You like being good. Because you are good. You’re strong already, you don’t need to be destructive. You get enough thrill in being a Belle. You love nothing more because you’re loved no matter what. Because like a family, Saint Mary’s doesn’t leave you.
Wake up with the same intensity as trying to fall asleep. Wake up ready. Because as a Saint Mary’s woman, you put the utmost effort into everything you do. Any other way is all too simple. Only regret one thing. Regret not whispering, “love you” out loud the last time you drove The Avenue. Next time, don’t stop looking out the rearview mirror until you literally can’t see the Belle tower anymore. Regret not letting her know how much you’ll miss her. Because Saint Mary’s, well, she misses you. And whether or not you follow this guide to a tee and miss Saint Mary’s properly, she always will. No matter what.
Photos provided by the author
Be sure to follow HCSMC on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest!