I've been working my way through some old journal entries that go back as far as my freshman year in college. As difficult as it is for me to believe, that was actually seven years ago. At some point in life, I would like to unify and condense my journal/diary/blog entries into one neat little book for my kids and grandkids. In order to make this something actually worth the reading, I am re-reading and sometimes editing those entries, not for content, but for grammar, spelling, etc.
So, since I might not have too much creative energy over the coming weeks due to a certain move that is coming this way fast, I will post old journal entries from time to time a.) so I won't lose more readers than I already have, and b.) so I can continue on with my goal to get this stuff printed at some point in life.
So... here it is... my first journal entry as a freshmen at Lee University... (Oh, for those melodramatic days...)
A Forgotten Friend
I had the most odd occurrence today. I came out of class to find myself walking behind a guy that looked exactly like a former high school classmate. While it took less than a second for my brain to register the impossibility of his presence here, that split second was all I needed to feel a sudden sense of warmth and comfort. Now, don't get me wrong; it's not that I would want to see this guy on campus. I didn't even particularly like him in high school. No, the comfort was not in who he was, but rather in who I knew. The fact that, during that millisecond, I was walking behind a person that I had known longer than half of a semester brought unimaginable peace. I knew him. I had a history with him... good and bad. I had a connection with him... even if it was simply from saying "hi" during home room. I can't explain why this happened, and I can't explain why my heart sank during the second after I realized it could not be him. All I know is that the whole incident has brought me a sense of homesickness that I have never felt before. No... not homesicknes... that's the wrong word. It's more of a history sickness. I wish to go back 3 or so years ago when things seemed so complicated but were oh-so-simple, where everybody I talked to was a person from my past and future, where meeting a new face was an adventure - not a chore, where even my enemies were beloved characters in my novel of life. Still, here I sit. Alone, with complications that are real, with acquaintances I barely know, with faces I dare to forget, with enemies - not characters. How did I get here? Is this a natural progression to independence? I suppose so... I suppose... I suppose someday I will find comfort in a stranger, not in a forgotten friend. Maybe... some day... all this new will become a part of my history... and my future... and me. I guess we'll have to wait and see.