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Changing it up

Erica Flint

I will be the first to admit that I don't like change.

At 22, my bedroom at home in Minnesota still sports a wallpaper pattern of pink ribbon fashioned into bows, just because I could never bear to change it.

When I was in middle school, my parents told my sister and I that they would put in a swimming pool if we let them tear down our old swing set. My sister consented immediately; I, however, filibustered because I couldn't handle seeing 13 years of swinging memories disappear. We ended up keeping the swing set, and when I went to college my parents tore it down anyway, but it was too late to cash in on the swimming pool deal. Like I said, I don't respond well to change. However, as a Miami University senior graduating in May, change in not only inevitable-it's imminent.

In less then a month I will pack up my things, and for the last time drive away from Miami and the comfort zone I have established here. After taking advantage of having a mall nearby and my mom's home cooking I will once again pack up, but this time it will be to move to Washington, D.C. I will be trading in the Beta Bells for the Washington Monument, frat parties for business functions, Greenhouse and my seven housemates for a place of my own, and Central Quad for the National Mall.

No longer will I have all my best friends living within a block of me. Gone will be the days when I can say "snack" and swipe breakfast, lunch and dinner from Bell Tower. I am now going to have to refer to houses with real addresses instead of creative names. In other words I will be making the transition from a student-a carefree youth-to what I refer to as a "real person."

If that's not change, then I don't know what is.

Normally the magnitude of this change would be enough to derail me. I mean, leaving the place and the friends I have grown to know and love over the past four years is way bigger than getting rid of a swing set-and we all know how I responded to that. However, I am doing my best to take this change in stride and make the most of my time left among the red bricks, dining hall food and dollar pitchers. I have made sure to eat at my favorite places again, walk by my favorite buildings. I have spent time with my friends instead of doing homework.

Part of the ease of the transition comes from the fact that deep down, I know I am ready to move on. I know this because sometimes when walking through the quad or uptown on the weekends I feel old.

I hear snippets of conversation-one first year can't wait to live in her sorority corridor next year, and a sophomore is upset because he can't get into any of the classes he wants-and I smile, the slow, small, sad smile of someone who knows her time at Miami is coming to a close.

Yes, it will be hard to leave the place I have come to call home, and it is hard knowing this part of my life is filled with a lot of lasts-the last time I attend a lecture, the last time I will have Bagel & Deli, the last time I will clean the Greenhouse kitchen (well, that one I am OK with). However, this just means that the next part of my life will be filled with a lot of firsts. I will meet new people and expand my circle of friends. I will pay my own bills and cook my own meals. I will control my own future.

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So Miami-thank you for four fabulous years. For giving me great friends, new opportunities and experiences, and thank you most of all for the memories you are leaving me with. I may be moving on, but a part of me will always call Oxford home.

And if the next part of my life is even half as great as my time at Miami then all I have to say to change is-bring it on.


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