I’m visiting PBU for the weekend! Yesterday, when I exited I-95 and began driving that oh, so traveled stretch of business 1, I cried. I didn’t expect that to happen, but I cried. I felt like a part of my heart was coming home. I didn’t know how much I missed it. Around me I constantly see a battle of new and old – the new hallway (and since when has admissions looked so AMAZING!?!), similar staff; new students, same friends; new feelings, same love.
I went out for apple cider with Amber and my heart felt at rest; I can be completely myself and I can feel safe here. Here is someone who I don’t have to explain myself to, someone who has traveled with me for the past two years and who only needs one word to understand a world of meaning and the significance behind it.
I went to the powderpuff football game. I laughed at how our school puts this together Homecoming weekend whereas all other schools have “real” football games. But the laughter was in fondness; this is PBU and we would have it no other way. We share a culture, memories, professors, a dining hall – here I am in my culture, here I am home.
And I didn’t realize how I’d longed to be here. I didn’t realize how much this place had become home.