And So It Is

Tonight was the breezy sort of summer night you often envision yourself in, sitting on the front porch drinking lemonade and star gazing. The air was just warm enough you didn't need a coat, but just cool enough you don't sweat in uncomfortable places. The perfect last night for me to experience as I truly bid goodbye to the collegiate chapter of my life.

I stood leaning against a chipping wood beam in a gazebo strategically placed on the edge of the HUB lawn. The campus was mostly empty by this point, about 9:30. Classes were over for the day, and students were already in sweatpants on various futons watching television. The occasional bar-goers lofted their disembodied voices up into the night air from downtown sidewalks, reaching me only in waves of gibberish and not in words.

Felts and I stood in silence, soaking it all in. Or at least, I was soaking it all in. I was standing in a familiar place; a place I'd passed almost daily for four long years, but had never stopped to take in the view. What I now saw was the place I called home. This place where I find relaxation in the long walk home at night, safe in this tiny metro from the horrors of the real world. Here there was a peace when wandering the streets; a familiarity people crave. Here where I knew people, one in every building.

I took a deep breath in, held it for a moment, and let it go. I knew at that moment the absurdity of my situation. So willing to move on, but so terrified to let it go. Add on top of this the looming feeling of absolute failure on the horizon. Honestly, who goes, "You know what sounds good? Moving to a giant hole in the middle of a desert. Yeah, I think I'll do that." Aside from me, of course.

People keep telling me this whole Canyon thing is going to be a great adventure (in which I will lose weight). I'm starting to think people assume I took this job as a weight-loss solution. I happen to work out... occasionally. When there's nothing good on TV or I don't feel like sleeping.

I'm about 15 to 20 lbs overweight, I'll admit. I can still function in society: my ass fits into brand-store pants and airplane seats. I can still walk to campus or up a flight of stairs. I don't think I'm missing much in life from being on the husky/chunky/more to love side.

This adventure of my is going to be one of both mental and physical transformation. And hey, if my "weight-loss plan" works, there might be an increase in tourism to the Grand Canyon!