What is there to be said? I loved my time here. Not everything was good, but I will remember my time fondly.
I’ll remember hearing birdsongs in the morning at the end of an all-nighter that I may have resorted to with a bit too much eagerness, and I’ll remember cursing as I saw the sun peek through the blinds.
Any time I have a burger I’ll think of Buns, and I’m certain no faux-Mexican meal will beat the Qdoba nachos I had at 2 a.m. on LDOC during my first year here.
And from that first year I’ll remember what it was like learning how to pace my drinking, and the ... mistakes I made along the way. I’ll remember the night during the first or second week when I called home, crying, just wondering if I’d ever feel like I could fit in or feel okay here.
I hope my friends stick with me in the future, but if they don’t, I’ll remember them as good, decent people, who brought me to many a fun adventure and never ceased bringing me joy. They stayed with me on the bad nights, too — making sure I never needed to make a call like that again.
Above all else I think I’ll remember that one “Carolina Day” — it’s a day that never happened to me, and I don’t know if it has ever happened to anyone, but I remember it all the same.
The day happens sometime during the first year, when everything about this campus is still new. I’m walking by our aquarium-colored football stadium, on a red brick pathway that is both missing too many bricks and stretching on for far too long.
It’s a little too warm outside for a Yankee like me, but there’s a perfectly timed breeze that helps me move forward when I think of taking a breather. It also cuts off James Taylor, crooning from somewhere near the alumni center. I can see the sunshine, Mr. Taylor, but I don’t feel any moonshine right now.
And while they may have no place in this memory specifically, four words exist in the background of this moment.
They’re the most important words of all:
“Go to hell Duke.”