On Relief

I have survived the first half of the sophomore slump. The feeling I had after turning in my last exam, walking across the indoor track of Barton, sliding my thick packet of way too many organic chemistry problems into the A-C slot: relief. Happy, even. As I walked back to my red metal chair to collect my pencils, jacket, calculator from under the table, and my friend's model kit–since I forgot to bring mine–my friend walked by me and gave me an eyebrow raise as if to say, "We made it."

Those next few hours before I went to the airport for home were bliss. I walked back with my self-assembled "orgo squad." The four of us had sat together in lecture every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the whole semester (assuming they woke up in time for class). I'd arrive early to save three other seats beside mine, laying whatever I could across the beat up seats of Baker 200. It was windy and snowy outside, but we were done. I clasped my boyfriend's hand and the four of us made our way across central campus, down the slope, and said temporary goodbyes. 

I packed my excessive amount of stuff into my suitcases, while my friend judged me for having about four times as much baggage to bring home compared to her. Even though I made her wait, it was all ok because once I finished packing we were off to go get bubs in ctown. We collected my other friend on our way from West campus to ctown, and together we foraged for bubs in the cold, nearly desolate Ithaca. 

I had my two closest friends with me, bubbles in my tummy, and I would be home in a few hours. I  was living my best life at this point. We stopped in CTB for a quick lunch before I had to say bye to one of my friends. My remaining friend and I were on the same flight to Philly, so we collected our luggage from my dorm and were all set to call a cab to the airport, when my boyfriend called and said he and his dad could drive us instead. After a short car ride, we were finally really leaving. We entered the automatic sliding doors of the so called Ithaca "airport" with all of its five gates, and the waiting began. 

The immense amount of relief I felt was strange looking back. It happens at the end of every semester, but it is so difficult to remember the feeling once it has passed. It almost makes the weeklong grinds, lack of sleep, and overwhelming stress forgettable. The boring hours of staring at books get thrown out and forgotten like cleaning out an old closet filled with inconsequential childhood trinkets. 

This relief is temporary but welcome.