Waiting For That Rocket

Some of you would have seen tweets alluding to this, but here I expand on the thought: St. Lawrence University still feels like home.

It’s been almost 10 years to the day since the first time I remember coming to visit with my parents. I was a high school junior. I remember crossing through Crawford’s Notch in New Hampshire, leaving the head of the Saco River behind, and feeling like – with the river – I was also leaving behind everything I knew.

I’m going to pause here and point out how dumb that feeling was. My paternal family is from Plattsburgh, NY, a city we passed through on the way to Canton and a city we visited fairly regularly. My maternal family (at the time) rented a summer house on Lake George, also on the fringes of the Adirondacks. This (a) wasn’t a new route to me, (b) wasn’t a new region to me. But. I digress. Regardless, it was one of those pivotal moments in my development as an adult.

We stepped out of the car to a miserable, gray, drizzly, North Country, November day.

I was in love.

Everything about campus felt right. From the class I went to with the freshmen (sorry, Student Life Professionals, “First-Years”), the meal I ate in the “Pub” with my parents, and the soccer game I froze through in the new stadium. There were flaws (I’d learn about more later), but it was perfect for me.

SLU ended up being the only school I applied to the following year. I have never regretted that decision.

This was nailed home when I walked onto campus last night. It’s been two years since I’ve been here, and the last time was for the new president’s inauguration, so that was hardly a typical weekend, but still. Even without the alumni red carpet rolled out, this place is STILL home.

Although I had 18 years of life before I matriculated into SLU, I feel like my life didn’t begin until I had matriculated.

This place is so damn special.