Dear Boston College,
It’s only been two weeks and we miss you already. We said our final goodbyes to you, and as we pulled away, with car trunks gasping for air and clothes wrinkling under the pressure of forced zippers, we looked forward to the next three months with excitement and a twinge of sadness. We already miss so much--your oddly patterned green and brown roofs, the dark shades in our dorm rooms, going out on weekends with nothing but our BC ID and cell phone, yelling in Bapst after beating Syracuse, Thursday Mac-n-Cheese at the Rat, and so much more. This move home is not just a change of location; we are practically moving to a different universe.
We’re leaving the world of the Newton and Comm Ave. buses that made us look frazzled and sweaty as we did the awkward backpack run to catch a ride. Thank you, bus drivers who sympathetically waited as we huffed and puffed in your rearview mirrors. We know you overheard the not-so-private stories of our #socollege lives. We’re leaving a world where drunkenly singing on a bus is commonplace. We’ll have to put our “oh baby you, you got what I nee-eed” vocals on hold until the fall, lest we be arrested for disturbing the peace (not to mention public drunkenness). We’re sadly parting with the strangers who graciously paid for our meals and all the #gassongrams we’ll miss out on. We’re waving goodbye to the yellow and red tulips and freshly rolled out grass we saw for three days during those dark days of final exams. We’re not bitter that incoming Eagles get to experience your full beauty; in fact, we hope you treat them well because come September, we’ll be asking them, “Who do you know here?”
Each Eagle is leaving a different version of you. For some, you might be a New England Classic with a side of fripps, no pickle. You might be the experience of getting thrown in the air at a football game or yelling the sieve chant. You might be a crowded Mod doorstep in the rain. We find you in the bunnies that run around Carney, the cemeteries that creepily border multiple sides of campus and the steaming steak and cheese subs that no other college can replicate.
So BC, we’re saying goodbye for now. Three months from now we’ll each be reunited with the Honey Q, the Bapst cubicle we bonded with those last few days and the Green Line we love to hate. Some of us CoRo recipients will meet again at Mac and Eagle’s Nest while others will find themselves giving in to Meatball Obsession.
Goodbye lines at Lower. Goodbye Million Dollar Stairs (and an excuse to skip the Plex). Goodbye mozz sticks--we wish we could visit you this summer.
Come August, we’ll re-pack the plastic bins overflowing with BC gear, the TV and a box of Easy Mac. Hopefully, we’ll have donned some sort of tan that will last us at least halfway through first semester. We’ll move into new buildings, houses and Mods with the people who have become family. We’ll spend the first month asking people how their summers were and hugging familiar faces. We will settle back into our comfortable BC lives--and somehow, it will feel as though we never left.
Dearest BC: your academics, your structure and your reputation are what give you body, but the little things are what give you the personality we know and love. It’s these experiences that make you a home away from home. And we can’t wait to come home again.
Until the fall,