a fake smile plastered.

We sat at a booth waiting for our food to arrive. Although Mom was sitting on my side, leaving Dad with a seat for two all to himself, I felt lonely. And terrified. Classes started the following day and I didn’t even care what food was coming my way. I was working much too hard keeping a rather fake smile plastered on my face, attempting to send the message of “everything’s gonna be PERFECTLY okay.” (RIGHT?!?!) Inside I was drowning in a sea of “what ifs”. What if I hated sharing a 10×10 foot room with someone else? What if Staci, my best friend since 5th grade, ended up being a terror of a suitemate? What if I can’t find my classes tomorrow and I look like THAT girl walking around in a dead, August-sweat with a giant map spread out in front of me?! What if my professors are mean and my classes too hard and my time here ends up a waste of money?! What if someone hurts my feelings and Mom is no longer two doors down? I was petrified.

“Oh, our food’s coming. I like this little restaurant. I bet it’ll be a favorite.” (fake smile plastered.)

That night I sat in my new home, Lauren my roommate off doing sorority stuff, and attempted to make it a little more “me”. Posters to the wall with putty, computers wired and plugged in, is the phone working?!, make the bed, fluff the pillow, open the fridge (it’s still empty), stare at the sink (there’s a sink in my bedroom.), slip next door to chat with my new suitemates. “Isn’t college gonna be so awesome?” (fake smile plastered.)

I’m not sure how I ended up with them, but somehow I found myself in the courtyard waiting for some of the guys to come out of their respective, 10×10 foot homes. Who’s the new guy? “Hi. I’m John.” “Johnny T,” I ask? “Yep.” “Yea, I remember Beth talking about you. You won ‘Friendliest’ with her, right?” He smiled and wiggled and moved his feet as if he was on something and excitedly said, “Yea! That’s me!” “Good to meet you.” (I’m petrified because I lived with my parents last night, but now I’m all on my own and I’m supposed to walk like 3 miles tomorrow to class and I don’t know where they are and I’m second guessing the roommates I chose and there’s a sink IN my room!!!) “Yea. Nice to meet you, too!” (fake smile plastered.)

The new guy that talked kind of loud and wiggled a lot happily offered to drive us all to Wal-Mart. There were too many of us for a sedan so he was happy to inform us that he drove a bus. (a bus. like a school bus?). And, then we met her. She was no bus. She was a 1972 Volkswagon bus. A bus, we found out, had been searched for high and low and then traveled to be rescued and brought home … her new home of Knoxville, Tennessee. John knew she’d fit in nicely at UT. And, she did. I don’t remember all of her detailed attributes (I was much too focused on keeping my fake smile plastered), but I remember stickers covering all her windows and creeky seats and an engine that took a little coaxing to actually start and maybe an oven …or a stove…or both? and a floor that got so hot after only a few minutes of driving that those of us without a seat were forced to stand.

We romped around Wal-Mart, laughing and cutting up, talking about where we came from and how our rooms were so small and our mini-fridges empty and what time does your class start? 10. Mine, too. We should meet up for breakfast beforehand. And, then we drove back and due to it being the night before the first day of classes there was not one single parking spot to be found. It was getting late and we were all getting tired, but there was something about being in a 1972 Volkswagon bus with 5 or 6 or 7 others looking high and low for a parking spot. We felt autonomous and grownup and free and adventurous. We were tired and all full of amped nerves, but our little trip to Wal-Mart and our rather large hunt for a parking spot ended up being so much more than it might have looked to an outsider. Yes, it was just what we needed to feel … well, okay. It was going to be okay. And, although we were all officially “on our own” it was understood – without being said – that we still live with our family. It was just going to look and feel a bit different and be quite a bit larger.

I went to bed that night with a smile on my face. Not a fake one. No, my cheeks were not aching. My muscles turned upright without effort. And, then my smile faded to sleep and an 8:30 a.m. alarm clock. Oh! Gotta get to the cafeteria. We’re meeting for breakfast!

__________________________________

That was five months shy of a decade ago. So much has come and gone, changed us, grew us, split us up and brought us back together. I was reminded of this time in my life this weekend when “Johnny T.” and his wife came up to Cinci for a visit. Like a magnet, Knoxville has yet again cast it’s spell and drawn another native from their home-away-from-home (New York City in John and Beth’s case) back to for-real-home. I’m happy to know that when we go home for a visit John and Beth will be there. But, I’m happier to know that even when 10 years has passed and four different cities has been lived in we can still spend the weekend together as if we were still living in the days with all of us piled in John’s VW bus heading to Wal-Mart.

Dear J&B — We love you guys so much. Thanks for being exactly who you are.

[When we were in college John hiked the entire length of the Appalachian Trail in 89 days. That's averaging 24 miles every single day for 3 months.        This guy's no joke. About hiking. Or food (nowadays). Or beer. Or talking kind of loud. Or being hyperactive. Or...]