odds & "end"s

Towards the end of the semester, I attempted to take more photographs of the parts of college I thought I might miss. I sat down and made a list of locations: Baldwin cafeteria, my favorite booth in the Kellogg Center, the Delta Gamma lodge, the Quad, the library, the English Department offices, my dorm room, the First West hallway. I constructed the most beautiful portfolio of photographs in my head, perfectly summing up my experience. Yet, in the weeks leading up to graduation, though my course load was light, I couldn't bring myself to drag out my camera and revisit all the important places. I struggled with how I was supposed be nostalgic for college just yet, when all I could think about was the freedom just ahead: the end of "long-distance" living, new opportunities to fully pursue my passions, free coffee brewed at home, my curly-haired dog and boyfriend, my two loves. So, these few photos are the note I end on. My library coffee ritual, writing cover letters, jotting down my inspiration in spiral bound notebook. Visiting my ceramics professor's farm, a perfect memory of why I loved Albion most: the teachers. A snapshot of my ceramics workspace and favorite pieces of the semester-- proud of my decision to pursue art while I still had the space, freedom, and time. The quiet mess in the Writing Center, a place where I learned about listening, acceptance, and unexpected friendships. My Delta Gamma senior sisters and Albion's unconventionally beautiful downtown. And finally a box of memories, a final photo I snapped as I packed up my room, containing four years worth of tokens: a pile of high school senior photos (some faces I hardly remember), a 50's party invitation, friendship bracelet strings knotted and forgotten, a wedding pinwheel, a cheap halloween mask, Phi Beta Kappa membership, a pink and blue hairbow, and the letter I wrote to my sisters trying desperately to sum up all I've learned and share it.

Even now, words and photographs can't serve my purpose of remembering what happened there. In this world of constant instant records, I think we think the more we capture the more we'll appreciate. But I realized during my last few moments, that the best parts were when I was being present, acknowledging how I felt right then, looking around, and silently saying goodbye. So, I didn't leave with the exhibit I'd hoped for, but I know that the things I'll remember most are the stories that words will always fail, the memories I have no photos to prove.