A Blonde, a Brunette and a Redhead...

In exactly one month, school begins again.
I love the irony that as a child, I couldn't wait for summer, and now, as an adult, I can't wait for fall. It will be my last year of college, and I can't shake off my mounting excitement, a premonition that this year to come will be the stuff of legends.


This is mostly due to specific expectations I have: this year, I'll be living in the University Ministry retreat house, aka Blessed Peter Faber House. The house is a small, adorable little thing, located smack in the middle of campus. It is the spot where all the retreats meet, a hospitality house, where my duties consist of making cookies and making sure groups feel comfortable at their meetings. One of the best parts is that for the first time in my life, I have a position that will allow me to actually make a change, affect lives, even in a small way.

The most exciting aspect of living in Faber is my roommates, the sweet and sensible Miss Kelley Hickey, and the mischievous and creative Miss Alyssa Harvey. The 3 of us together could be a Cover Girl commercial, or the Charlie's Angels...the classic Blonde, Brunette and a Redhead. Kelley and I applied together, and were delighted to find Alyssa with us...for the last few years, only two people have lived in Faber, so we'll be a little squished, but this almost makes me more excited. Growing up with 4 brothers has given me an enormous penchant for female dominated abodes. I've never had a sister, and I know that next year will be like one eternal sleepover.

The great part about my roommates is what we have in common. An adventurous spirit. A big perspective. A delight for the absurd, an enchantment with class and beauty, an ambitious heart and mind. We even share style, with our combined weakness for big pashminas and a slightly european look.

When I discovered Kelley a year ago, it was only weeks before she was one of my best friends, a life-long kindred spirit. We're alike in all the right ways, in faith, and values...lovers of travel, books, wine and even vernacular that matched. Too often I found myself neglecting favorite words of mine with friends because I knew they wouldn't know what they meant, but with Kelley, I can be delightfully myself. I've never known someone to be so incredibly supportive of me, in every way. Soon I had introduced to her my brother David, and now they've been together for 7 months...quite the accomplishment. Her red hair and memorable name have made her a big presence on campus, and being her friend has created a separate world in my life, where anything, any dream is possible.


I knew who Alyssa was vaguely for quite a time before I got to know her, (actually it was the same with Kelley) but it was through our Poetry creative writing class that I actually came to see who she was. After Michelle told the 3 of us we'd be living together and I began to dig past the surface with her, I couldn't believe how wonderful it was for us to be so lucky.With a demeanor that seems at first merely sweet, Alyssa constantly surprises me with her devilish attitude and mysterious ways. She has an aptitude for dorky things that used to be cool, and somehow makes them likable again. She's a talented writer and a theater rat, starring as Jane in the upcoming Gonzaga production of Pride and Prejudice. Her room's a mess, just like mine, which seems to be only another sign of her eccentric genius.

Somehow I have the feeling that the three of us together in that house will create a world I'll never want to leave. It is as if I have had ingredients for something my entire life, and now I know what dish they're for and what else they'll go with best, down to the very last spice.

I don't know what Michelle and Fr. Hightower are doing to the house, but I know that they've revamped it over the summer for us. We've talked a lot about making the most of our space, maybe making the basement into some sort of den, wine cellar or creative space. I'll be sharing a room with Alyssa, and in that tiny house, I know big adventures will begin.

I have all these ambitions: I want to throw a Great Gatsby party, I want to have wine nights and book readings. I want a space where I want to create, and so will others. I want a place to feel safe, a place my other friends will be always dropping in and never wanting to leave. I want to run a Woman's Retreat...So many aspects of women's lives that need attention are ignored by all the different outreaches at our school. The talks would address specific issues...sex, self-esteem, even abortion. So many girls I know feel that they go through these things alone in college, and I want to make Faber the place they'll stop by, feel welcome.

I already knew that I wouldn't want to leave Gonzaga once I graduated, because the community I've built there has been so incredibly wonderful, but now I know that when I leave Faber, for the second time in my life, I'll be leaving home.

Its hard to believe that I spent so much of last year dreading that half my friends would be graduating, when I've made so many new ones and can't wait to make more. I want to know my class better, as well as the classes beneath me. It's my last year and I want to make the most of it, fill it with everything I love and fulfill a purpose while I'm at it.

I just know that this year, I'm going to dream big.
And I never want to stop.

What Now?

When I come home, there's a drive I like to take.

As I drive, the fragrance of earth floats through the open windows. Not just any wet earth scent, but that of the California hills. It instantly brings me back to the August sunrise runs of high school cross country in the Reseda mountains. I become overwhelmed with nostalgia, an emotion I find myself avoiding far too often these days. I used to love driving late into the summer night with the windows down and the empty streets lit by the glowing street lights, curving into and around the valley’s hills, enjoying the Los Angeles skyline coming into view now and again, but I find myself taking them less and less often, tired of feeling that I'm just reliving an activity from my childhood, my teenage hood, as everything I does when I'm home now.

I'm usually too lazy to commit to a real emotion,so I push it away and try to think of something else. But then, another waft of the distinct scent of the earth comes in the window, and I'm sixteen again, running up the hill, Mr. Bates, the overly enthusiastic Social Justice teacher at my side, exclaiming “Just look at that sunrise! Makes you glad to be alive, doesn’t it?” and the other girls around me gasping for air, but with enough energy to turn to each other and roll their eyes with indulgent little smiles, before focusing back on the dirt curve of the path before them, the green and brown shrubs on either side, stretching as far as our eyes could see, camouflaging other runners, bikers, deer and sometimes wolves from our view, even from a few feet away. It was easy to suddenly believe myself alone on those mountain paths, when the curves and different stamina levels separated us from our teammates, and I was there, by myself in the wilderness. Sometimes I ran slower than I could walk, but I knew I had to keep going, had to catch up with one of the other girls before a wolf jumped out from behind a bush to eat me. And after the runs, the whole team would sit in the dirt in a circle, gossiping and joking and laughing as they stretched, their sweats covered in dust and Coach Murphy would lecture about nutrition for a while in her lovely Irish accent and then we would all pile into our carpools, off to grab Jamba juices and head home to collapse on our beds and sleep away half the summer’s day. The Barefeet would drive me home, and I’d chat with them, about fashion or teachers or friends. When school started, the girls would all pile into cars and head off to Devon’s house for showers, or straight to school to use the new locker rooms. We all fought over using the mirrors, and the outlets for our hairdryers.
One waft of clean, sweet smelling summer night earth, and I miss Louisville as fiercely as I did when I attended the last class’s graduation, as the girls in white walked down the stairs, and all the teachers lined up, proudly watching them go on, like they had for us once. Once. I love College, and I love my friends, but high school…I miss the carefree days of a part-time summer job instead of a full-time one, a world in which I wasn’t worried about building my credit, but only about how I looked in my pleated gray skirt. I miss being goofy and not worrying whether people thought I was mature enough, serious enough, responsible enough for my age, I miss the green lawns of our campus, the earnest discussions, the easy banter, the communal worshipping of Mrs. Tumpak, the sarcastic but brilliant English teacher. I miss dancing in the hallways, and falling asleep on top of each other, and whispered conversations in the library, or daily picnics on the lawns.
I miss feeling like I belong in Southern California, like I belong in the world I'm in. The world of a summer home from college is one of displacement; everything so familiar, so the same, but I am so different. It is a sweet limbo, in which every place, every scent, every activity is so tainted with lovely memories that it is impossible to make new ones. I long fiercely to go back, but so much to just go, to leave so that the beauty of things ended will stop haunting me.
A summer home brings no new adventures, just the reliving of old ones, just the postponement of life. Life is on pause, and I am trapped in in my own once upon a time.
Old friends, a close family soften the blow of returning to the past, but they too, are frustrated with the limbo holding summer in its grip. There are too many adult obligations now, jobs that suck up our time, independence of self rearing its ugly head, morphing into independent lives, lives that don’t include seeing friends every day, but rather consist of a scattered group only occasionally reunited.

I've been wiling away my days helping around the house, at my parish, writing, painting, contemplating my future and trying desperately to come up with a plan, any sort of plan. All I want is to go back to school, but what happens next summer? What happens after I graduate and there is no school to go back to? What then?

What now?