Last Night.

Of course I'm going to write a blog on my last night at home. DUH. It's probably going to be emotional and sentimental, too, so I can get it all off my chest and start out college without a giant paper weight (get it? Aha. Ha.) on my conscious.

It was busy today. I visited Krysteah, who is now home from the hospital and is doing pretty well, and then went over to Ashton's work to talk to her for a little while. Then I came home and me and my mom started packing all of my stuff. I've come to the conclusion that parents have no idea what to pack, they only know how to be incredibly irritating. My dad, for example, suggests that I bring everything in my entire room, including old stuffed animals that I haven't hugged in years and pictures of friends who aren't even friends any more. My mom freaks out over the sort of boxes we're using, because dad likes to pull out old storage from the closet that are full of Christmas ornaments to try and "recycle and reuse." Yikes. Needless to say, I kicked them both out and did it all myself. I couldn't stand my dad's sentimental urges and my mother's frantic gaze, both of which were directed at me.

My dad made my favorite dinner (lasagna) and that was good. My brother had gone to the first football game of the season with some of his friends, so it was just me and my parents. I have to say, padre makes a pretty good lasagna, even if all he does is follow the instructions on the back of the noodle box. Then we decided to go to Goodberry's, after a rather long and drawn out discussion, and some personal tears (of course), to end the evening.

I love driving to Goodberry's because we get to take the back roads there through the country, instead of the highway. I would definitely say that God gave me a gorgeous last-night sunset, because the sky was beautiful. It's funny how you notice things when you think it's the last time you're going to see them in a while. Everything takes on this strange sort of glory and beauty and precision, and stands out against it's backdrop like dirt on the snow. Farmhouses seemed romantic and almost cheerful, and the trees looked alive like they could start singing at any moment; the cow pastures were warm and lonely, and even the antiquated gas-station juxtaposed against the rural fields and glowing horizon looked sharp and magnificent. Odd, isn't it, how we suddenly notice things that we've so long taken for granted? It's not just junk, or land, or property— it's a life. It's a way of living that I'm leaving and, in a way, coming back to over and over, but it will never really be mine ever again. That's the thing about college that I don't think my parents understand. Yes, I'll be coming home again, and yes, things will probably be very similar if not exactly the same. But I'll be coming home an adult. An adult who, after college ends, will be going to different cityscapes and countries and villas to find her own way, her own town, her own life. I won't call this home any more. It's strange and exciting and terrifying and wonderful, all wrapped up in this mixed emotion that has no name.

Tonight when I go to bed, my thoughts will be wandering. I'll probably be taking long walks through my childhood, my adolescence, my trials and my joys, and trying to make them connect into who I turned out to be. Who I'm still turning out to be, really. And I know that as college comes and these next four years flash by, I'll be changing even more, turning into someone new all over again. The memories I have are precious, but I don't want them to hinder my future. I want to walk into this newness without burdens, without strings, without fear or pride, and most of all, without control, so that I am forced to cling to the only unchanging thing I know— Jesus. I don't know anything; I am ignorant and not clever, and I have no way of promising anything, of predicting anything, hallelujah. Lord knows the desires of my heart, but as was prophesied over me, I must walk a straight and narrow path until the time is ripe and right. Put me through the maze, then, keep me on a hard road, make my own way unclear to me, if it draws me nearer to You. If it forces me to my knees, if it keeps me perpetually weeping, if it breaks my heart and breaks my will, Father, may it be as You have said, and may I be soft and malleable clay in Your hands. I have no other hope than the hope I have in You.

So yeah, tomorrow I move into dorm 074-b at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, at 9:00 a.m., and begin my adventure. In the words of someone famous who's name I don't remember— "Good night, and good luck."