Wednesday, May 1, I left Logan, Utah for a year and a half, and Wasatch Hall probably forever.
The last couple of weeks leading to the end of school, I couldn't wait to get out. I was missing home and sick of school and frankly, at the time, sick of people up there. Then, before I knew it, it was Finals Week, and I found myself not wanting to leave. Wednesday came, and the hours were ticking by too quickly. The boys I befriended ended on a good note by helping my dad and I take all of my stuff down to his truck. He let me go back upstairs to say my goodbyes, where I refused to cry, and didn't.
That is, not until I went back downstairs, got in the truck, and pulled away. The memories flooded my eyes like a waterfall, and I was hesitant to let them become just that: memories.
This year at college was a hard year for me, I won't deny that. But this year, I met the most amazing people. Some I met at work, some I met in my mission prep class, but most, I met at Wasatch Hall.
Wasatch Hall is the cheapest on-campus building at Utah State, and for a reason. It's about sixty years old, and one of only two buildings that hasn't been renovated yet. Oven doors fall off, there are bubbles and stains in the carpet, the building makes creepy sounds at night, and the fire alarm went off seven times first semester; twice within an hour one time. If you look at our parking lot, it is filled with crappy beater cars. But that made it so only the funnest people ended up in Wasatch Hall. Why? Because we didn't need to have money to have fun.
My first semester, I met my fantastic roommate and friend. She and I are so alike and I hope we meet up again after our missions. She will be an amazing missionary, whether it's as a full-time missionary or just in her life. I loved all of our soda/snapchat/pity/TLC/deep chat parties. If I was supposed to go to USU just to meet her, it was worth it.
Second semester was filled with a lot of those crazy, random adventures you dream of experiencing in college. Bonfires, beard-out basketball games, midnight trips to Walmart just for donuts, jumping into freezing cold First Dam at 12:00 at night, staying up until 6 a.m., ten minute dance parties, ALWAYS breaking quiet hours, Back to the Past Parties, awkward batchelorette episodes on Friday nights, Wingless Thursdays at Buffalo Wild Wings, breaking glass bottles on a mountain with a golf club at night, food fights, Wasatch monopolizing each and every SLC and on-campus event, and many, many hours driving around in my friend's pickup truck. I think those times were my favorite: where we didn't have anywhere to go, anywhere we needed to be, at any time...we just drove. Sometimes it started out with a destination in mind, until we'd end up getting lost, saying "screw it" and driving.
These are the memories I'll tell my kids about. These are the things that one day will only be stories to them. We'll have our husbands and our wives and our kids and careers. We'll work in an office or a hospital or a kitchen or a home. Maybe one of us will become some big name while the rest of us lead our seemingly ordinary lives in those offices or hospitals or kitchens or homes. But we'll know that we're not ordinary, if only for the extraordinary times we had when we were nineteen and scared and free and excited and brave and eager all at once, finding ourselves alongside some pretty extraordinary people. Sure, they'll just be stories to them. But we'll know they were real, and that they happened. And not to get all cliché here and quote Perks of Being A Wallflower, but in these moments, I could swear, we TRULY are infinite.
I don't want to forget being eighteen years old, feeling so wild and free and made of clay; letting the world mold me.
I'll forever be grateful to the family I made at Wasatch Hall (lovingly known by us as Wasketch.) I can't believe it's already been nine months since this ragamuffin band of misfit kids, mostly fresh out of high school, scared and eager for our first year on our own, moved into that sketchy crap hole with its creaking doors, breaking ovens, and sensitive fire alarms. We left that place a little more confident, a little more experienced, a LOT more grateful for our nice homes and food paid for by our parent, and most importantly, with a larger family and memories we didn't have before that will last a lifetime.
I love my Wasatch family. Every single one of them taught me something in some way without even knowing it. They all made me better and I'll forever be grateful to them for that.
Every single one of them would make fun of me for ding this, but I'm gonna go ahead and quote the good ol' T-Swizzle anyway:
Will you take a moment, promise me this
That you'll stand by me forever, but if God forbid, fate should step in
And force us into a goodbye, if you have children someday.
When they point to the pictures, please tell them my name
Tell them how the crowds went wild
Tell them how I hope they shine
Long live the walls we crashed through
All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
I was singing long live, the magic we made
And bring on all the pretenders
I'm not afraid
Long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you
Long, long live that look on your face
And bring on all the pretenders
One day, we will be remembered.
LONG LIVE WASATCH.
We are infinite.
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