bittersweet

Summed up in one word, year two of college has been bittersweet, a fact made plain by my attitude toward its end. Last year, I started moving out before spring break; I was so out of that little shoe box. But apartment 306 in McWhorter Hall has become my home, and the three beautiful women that I share it with, my family. I've grown to love UGA - the turtle pond, the lacebark elms that line East Green Street, discipleship, Lake Herrick, the (free) climbing wall in Ramsey, my sister living just down the road, aerobics classes, and even the faculty of the communication sciences and disorders department. The idea of the next few weeks of school and leaving for the summer is sort of symbolic for me. It's like a small scale trial run of what's about to happen in my life in the next few years. Leaving for five weeks in Russia forces me to think about leaving for three years in Seattle. While I'm excited about the next chapter, I do not want this one to end just yet.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to leave my family. We're parting ways for the summer: I am going to Russia, Becca to Spain, Lindsey to Italy, and Danielle is taking classes and working stateside (she went to New Zealand last year). I love these girls so very much. I wish I could capture and share with you an image that would convey their individual beauty, but it's taken me eight months to see the depth of who they are, and I am still uncovering new and wonderful things about them every day:

Yesterday after class I was sitting at my desk removing the bright pink polish from my fingernails when I heard the kitchen door open. "Hello?" she called from our living room, and appeared a moment later in my doorway,"I knew you were here because I could smell the fingernail polish." In spite of our desperate need for an academically productive afternoon, we began to talk, and continued to do so for about two hours. We talked about everything and nothing - like old friends that hadn't spoken in years and needed to catch up. We took some personality quizzes online, and I had to answer some of the questions that she couldn't figure out about herself.

When I opened my window to let some fresh air in, I could smell the summer. As I adjusted the plants on my windowsill, I heard her say quietly, "You're pretty, Kirby." That's what she's like. She sees beauty in things that others overlook. Last night, we were sitting outside the art school before the graphic design exit show and she noticed an overgrown tree stump. I'm pretty sure she's going to bring her sketchbook back there to draw it between classes sometime this week. She asks brilliant questions. Her favorite Disney princesses are Mulan and Belle. Her favorite cereals are Kix, Honey Bunches of Oats (which she calls H-Boo), and Multigrain Cheerios. She drinks her tea with Splenda. She loves scarves and big fat juicy oranges, but shudders at the thought of touching rotten fruit. She drives a manual transmission and puts little card pockets in the front covers of most of her books, which she also labels. Apparently she wants to organize them in some fashion and keep track of who borrows them. (She just came into my room, laid down on the floor, and told me that)

She doesn't realize how amazing she is and she lacks confidence, but I kind of like that about her; she is genuinely humble, which is a precious rarity, in my opinion. Last night I watched her paint flawless Victorian letters on a project for her upcoming portfolio review. For a moment, it was as if I saw her through the Lord's eyes. Beautiful.

She's going to hate that I wrote this about her.