And so here I am again. It is amazing how incredibly right I feel in this little room in Fain C. But I will save that for tomorrow night.

“I always get nostalgic this time of year,” Sebastian remarked as we drove back to campus this evening. (An “omg, me too” moment) “Endings are just so sad.”

I dropped him off in Case parking lot. There was a boy and a girl sitting in a car with the doors open.Everyone I see wears the same expression, and it is one I am grateful not to have had the chance to don. I am already maudlin enough by nature – I don’t think I could handle an end like this if I’d actually had the type of the experience that prompted that conversation held in the white old-school Volvo in Case Parking lot.

Everything I love from Skidmore will be easily held on to. Anything I want to keep, I will — this I know. Unlike high school, there is no “familiarity” which I will miss when it is gone — I haven’t yet, anyway. There are things that I will not miss until I am reminded of them, like the wash of mood that overtakes me walking around campus on a perfect spring evening, or the corners of Ladd Hall, or the curve of the perimeter road, but most of that is merely sentimentalist.

And I will miss this little room in Fain C, because when I have come back to this room and dropped an armload of stuff on the bed, I have felt home.