Three years ago around this time, I thought I was way, way,
way, way, (wait for it) WAY greater than sliced bread. I was getting ready to
go to a school that was not within 2 hours 10 minutes (yes, that is a
jab at all ye Notre Dame frands) from my home. Killing it, heading east where
adventure awaits. I was a truly independent 18 year old living up ze fancy
collegiate life. I lurved my independence, I mean who doesn’t? Still do.
Anybody who knows me knows of my affections for airports,
the organized chaos provides such joy for People Watchers Anonymous worldwide.
And this independence feeling? Totally thriving in such a setting. And flying
alone to and from school, mmhmm gets me excited just thinking about it. But it
wasn’t until my recent trip to Boston (Post to follow shortly) that I realized
how big of a joke that really is.
Here I was, 6 am, sitting on the plane road take-off thing
(I know, I know if I love airports so much I should know this terminology by
now, but I don’t so get over it.) stationary for an hour and a half, seatbelts
buckled, phones off, lights dimmed. Why? I still don’t really know. But I do
know that when we pulled back up to the jet bridge, I had a lot of people to
notify; people who care about me, people who dropped me off at the airport,
people who pick me up from airports, mis padres, Tim, etc. etc. etc. For an
independent college girl, entering her senior year, I sure am dependent on
lotsa people, and the best of all people, people I seriously can’t live
without. So I guess this is just a wordy realization of where I’ve come and the
gratitude I owe so many for allowing me to be dependent on you so I can have
the faulty notion that I am self-sufficient. Jokes.
Also, I did finally make it home a mere 5.5 hours later than
I was supposed to so all the women who are independent, throw your hands up at
me. AmIRight?
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