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September 22, 2011

Tonight, I was on the way home from Deena’s apartment and passed by my old college campus. I’m not over that way very often and it was late and deserted. So, I immediately pulled off and drove through the parking lot and smiled.

It’s funny how some buildings and a parking lot can bring a rush of so many emotions and memories.

My first drive through of that parking lot was not so happy. I had been accepted to Palm Beach Atlantic–a school directly across from the beach. It wasn’t going to work out and this was closer to home. So, I was excited to check it out, but my heart sank as my parents drove around and I realized just how small this school really was. They had to drag me to the admissions office because I was ready to go home.

I faked my way through the questions and information time, knowing I didn’t want to be there. But, for some unknown reason, when I did a walk through of the dorms, I knew I was home and that I was going to school there.

And a couple of weeks later, I drove my packed down Ford Explorer to that campus and started a new part of my life.

There are so many stories of people I met and who they turned out to be in my life. Too many to tell.

Like when I met my head RA, who’d eventually be my maid of honor and one of my closest friends. Or the RA that lived next to me who kept knocking on my door to say hello every single night at the same time, which I thought was odd, but then I learned it was her way of doing attendance (ha!), that we would be roommates for a while and be in each other’s weddings. Or Joy, the girl downstairs that I frequently borrowed clothes from would become a dear, sweet friend and we’d have kids around the same time. Or even, Samantha, the girl I never had a conversation with that lived downstairs, but we would become good friends after college.

My old college campus isn’t the only place I drive through every once in a while. I, also, drive around the church I grew up in when I leave my parents’ house sometimes. Or, when I take that certain back road, sometimes I’ll pull into the parking lot of the church Reid and I got married in, just to look and remember.

It sounds strange, but it’s what I do.

I’m sure there will be a day when we don’t live in this house anymore and I’ll drive by, remembering it as our first house and the house that Jack was a baby in; the house where we brought him home from the hospital and the house where he took his first steps.

Does anyone else do this with their special places!? Tell me I’m not crazy.

One Comment leave one →
  1. September 23, 2011 9:10 pm

    this makes me smile. 🙂

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