Never a goodbye. Always a "see you later."
Exhale.
This piece is one I have put off for three months. One I still cannot bare to write. One I know will bring tears to my eyes and overwhelming emotion to my soul. Emotion I’ve been neglecting. Ignoring. Shoving to the side. Purposefully “forgetting” about. In fact, I intentionally decided to write this letter as I sit and wait for my car at the shop so that hopefully, if my plan works, the public setting will keep me from swelling with immense feelings.
As I begin my final trek from Iowa to California in mere days, I cannot ignore the facts any longer. I cannot wish for the past. I cannot pretend I didn’t end my soccer career, graduate, and suddenly become thrusted into the “real world.” Whether I’ve accepted it or not, it happened. That actually occurred. I will not be returning to Iowa this fall. I will not be playing soccer games on cold, crisp, and vibrantly colored autumn nights. I will not be drinking coffee at 1a.m. in the library surrounded by mutters of laughter and companions. I will not be watching new sorority members find their forever home. I will not be challenged in the classroom or pushed outside of my comfort zone academically. I will not be wearing my Coe crest in an area where people know what Coe is. I will not need my giant black parka that makes me look like a burnt marshmallow or rain boots that protect my feet in the showers of spring. I will not be attending Ladies Nights or farmers markets or Rough Rider games. I will not be picking apples at Wilson’s Orchard, carving pumpkins with my teammates, or braving the freezing slush to make snowmen. I will not be partaking in 3a.m. roomie talks, spontaneous dance parties, or the adventures dorm life brings. I will not be attending 12 club meetings a day, stressing about time management or fast walking from activity to activity because there’s “never enough time in the day.” I will not be calling home crying when I’m stressed or calling home excited when I’ve succeeded. I will not be anticipating surprise visits from my family or watching younger Kohawks grow into their own skin. I will not be attending sporting events or fundraisers or participating in the Dance Marathon. I will not have all of my friends within walking distance or blurred nights downtown dancing at Hazzards country bar. Never again will I eat one too many cookies in the caf or spend all of my Coe cash in the first month of school. Never again will I anticipate Flunk Day or eat cereal for dinner for the fourth time in a week. Never again will I walk the side-walks of Coe to the tune of the cicadas or witness the seasons unfold to the landscape of corn. Everything I have known and loved for the past four years is done. Gone. In the past.
A mere memory and four-year blur.
No one prepared me. No one told me how hard this transition would be. On Instagram I see people excited about graduating and moving on. Individuals thriving in the real world. Retired athletes hanging their cleats without remorse. However, I can’t be the only one hurting, can I? I can’t be the only one struggling to just “move on.” I can’t be the only one wishing I could start my college days all over again. I can’t be the only one with a sudden identity crisis…right? A wise teammate and friend once told me that sometimes it’s better to have a hard time moving on because then at least I know I had an amazing college experience. While this is valid and a good perspective to have, I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the denial stage of grief. What I’ve “lost” isn’t actually lost to me yet. I’ve neglected the inevitable. I was not ready. I’m still not ready. But I have to be. I must force myself to move on. Not forget, not un-appreciate, not neglect. But simply transition, looked forward, and continue with the changing chapters of my life.
Five years ago, I began the college search. Wanting to go out of state to play soccer, I had big dreams of life in NYC post-high school. However, every school I visited on “The Great American College Search,” as my mom called it, didn’t click with who I was as a person. Dozens of schools after dozens of schools I left campus visits feeling disconnected from the college, culture, and team. I didn’t fit in. I couldn’t be myself.
Not knowing where I would end up, my mom suggested I check out a small liberal arts school in Iowa during the fall of my senior year.
“Where!?”
“Iowa in the Midwest,” my mom replied.
“Umm yeah, no thanks.”
Next thing I knew, I was on a flight to Iowa…the first of 16 in my four years to come.
Coe was the first school I visited where I felt at home. I loved the red brick buildings. The faculty and staff. The students. The classrooms. The coaches and team. The facilities. The Victory Bell. The endless opportunities. The flowers. The surrounding city. The friendliness. The rigor. The school spirit. The seasons. Most importantly, I loved that I could be myself. In one short weekend I found my four-year home. The place where I’d fail and then succeed. The place where I’d cry and then jump for joy. The place where I’d grow my love for life, learning, and soccer. The place where I’d be challenged to become the best version of myself and mold into the person I am today. The place where I’d be accepted and acknowledged. The place where I’d face hardships. The place where I’d learn lessons. The place where I’d be rebellious. The place where I’d discover my love for karaoke, dancing, and nights on the town. The place where I’d get to see my grandparents more in four years than the past 18 years prior. The place where I’d discover who I am and work toward who I want to become. The place where I’d grow in confidence, self-appreciation, and quirks. The place where I’d try something new and live life on the edge. The place where I’d travel outside of my comfort zone and take risks. The place where I’d find my forever friends and mentors. The place where I’d join three too many clubs. The place where I’d evolve as a teammate, roommate, Delta sorority sister, leader, and friend. The place where I’d break out from my shell. The place where I’d develop and grow. The place where I never anticipated to spend my four years but am beyond thankful that I did. Life has a funny way of giving you exactly what you need before you even know you need it. And I guess it’s safe to say that moms are always right…but don’t tell her I said that ;)
So, four years came and went and suddenly I traded a jersey for a cap/gown and textbooks for a diploma. My world was rocked. Who am I without school? Who am I without soccer? Who am I beyond Coe? To be honest, I still don’t know.
What I do know, though, is that I am a follower of Christ. I’m a daughter, sister, niece, cousin, and friend. I am a competitor. I am driven. I am goal-oriented. I am a lover of life and all of its people. I am resilient. I am grit-filled. I am compassionate. I am emotional. I take on more than I should. I stress and worry too much. I trust easily and am gullible. I have the sense of humor of a 60-year-old man. I drink too much coffee. I love the outdoors. I’m an avid reality TV watcher. I hoard too many items and never throw away old running shoes. I’m a better advice giver than I am an advice taker. I console. I empathize. I defeat odds. I’m a night on the town party animal, but also a movie and sweat pants couch potato. I’m confident in myself and my abilities. I’m a Type One Diabetic. I’m care free…but also very “type A.” I’m sarcastic. I’m a little too bubbled/innocent for my age. I'm passionate about many hobbies. I’m a Lil Wayne and work out girl in the morning, but a Thomas Rhett and campfire girl at night. I’m a number one fan and a big cheerleader. I’m a lifelong learner. I’m a lifelong athlete. I’m a lifelong Kohawk.
To transition doesn’t mean to forget. To move on doesn’t mean to neglect. To pursue a life beyond college doesn’t mean to ignore. The past four years don’t define who I am—they only mold me into who I want to continue becoming. Life is bigger than school. Life is bigger than sports. Life is bigger than the past. Memories are meant to be remembered, not relived. Moments are meant to bring smiles, not a yearning to go back in time. Experiences are meant to provide stories, not remorse for what was. Although, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that this has all been hard for me to accept.
So yes, I guess it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. While this doesn’t make the transition period any easier, it gives me ease knowing I am one of the lucky few who received the perfect four-year fairytale I did. From the field to the classroom, friends to mentors, and experiences within the states and abroad, I am blessed. I am fortunate. I have no reason to cry and every reason to smile.
It’s time for new Kohawks to come in and fall in love with Coe just like I did five years ago as a senior in high school. It’s time for them to transition. It’s time for someone to fill my seat in the classroom, wear my jersey on the field, and hold my leadership role in Delta.
“The past is like using your rearview mirror in the car, it’s good to glance back and see how far you’ve come but if you stare too long, you’ll miss what’s right in front of you” (anonymous).
So, to my teammates, friends, sorority sisters, professors, mentors, and my beloved alma mater, thank you. Thank you for giving me a rearview mirror image that’s so vibrant and fun. Thank you for molding me into who I am today. Thank you for giving me a home away from home. Thank you for making it so hard to say, “see you later.”
And to all students (athletes, musicians, actors, club leaders, innovators, etc.) here’s my piece to you: breathe, take it in, soak up all of the minutes, never take anything for granted, and bask in the glory of your four-year journey. While it may not always be easy or fun, I can assure you it will always be worth it. College, and life, is too short to be down in the dumps about grades, playing time, a bad performance, what chair you are in band, a lost election, a break up, stress, etc. Remember to smile more and worry less. Lend a hand where it’s needed. Use your time to do what makes you happy. Know that there are ALWAYS more hours in the day than you think. Go on that date. Propose that project. Wear that Flunk Day outfit. Sing that song at Grey’s. Audition for that musical. Watch that movie with your roommates at 2a.m. Go on that weekend adventure. Spend that money. Donate that amount of time. Apply for that position. Try that new move on the field. Slide into those DM’s. Have that hard conversation. Break those barriers. Do it all. Every. Single. Thing. You. Are. Inclined. To do. JUST DO IT. One day you’ll move on from Coe and the opportunity will be gone. Take hold of your moment and seize the day. It’s your four-year experience to create. I hope you create a good one.
To 18-year-old me (but mostly, my mom), I owe you one. A huge one. You have taken me on the grandest adventure of my 22 years—an adventure I will cherish for my lifetime to come.
And finally, to current me, the past is not made to be relived. Go seize the present a create your future. Do not take anything for granted. Take nothing lightly and don’t let life pass you by. Stop and smell the roses and remind yourself to appreciate even the smallest moments. Have the same excitement and yearning for the chapter to come like you did four years ago when embarking on your journey at Coe. Smile more than you frown. Laugh more than you cry. Take risks more than you calculate and “play it safe.” Look forward more than you look back. Commemorate the moments behind you, but don’t dwell. Eighteen-year-old you would expect nothing less. No matter where life takes you, Coe will never be far from your heart. Afterall, it’s had such an immense impact on the person you are right now. Run with it and go seek the crazy whirlwind life you desire. Life is for the living. The living is for now. Now is your time.
And remember, once a Kohawk, always a Kohawk.
Inhale.
Let’s do this.
This piece is one I have put off for three months. One I still cannot bare to write. One I know will bring tears to my eyes and overwhelming emotion to my soul. Emotion I’ve been neglecting. Ignoring. Shoving to the side. Purposefully “forgetting” about. In fact, I intentionally decided to write this letter as I sit and wait for my car at the shop so that hopefully, if my plan works, the public setting will keep me from swelling with immense feelings.
As I begin my final trek from Iowa to California in mere days, I cannot ignore the facts any longer. I cannot wish for the past. I cannot pretend I didn’t end my soccer career, graduate, and suddenly become thrusted into the “real world.” Whether I’ve accepted it or not, it happened. That actually occurred. I will not be returning to Iowa this fall. I will not be playing soccer games on cold, crisp, and vibrantly colored autumn nights. I will not be drinking coffee at 1a.m. in the library surrounded by mutters of laughter and companions. I will not be watching new sorority members find their forever home. I will not be challenged in the classroom or pushed outside of my comfort zone academically. I will not be wearing my Coe crest in an area where people know what Coe is. I will not need my giant black parka that makes me look like a burnt marshmallow or rain boots that protect my feet in the showers of spring. I will not be attending Ladies Nights or farmers markets or Rough Rider games. I will not be picking apples at Wilson’s Orchard, carving pumpkins with my teammates, or braving the freezing slush to make snowmen. I will not be partaking in 3a.m. roomie talks, spontaneous dance parties, or the adventures dorm life brings. I will not be attending 12 club meetings a day, stressing about time management or fast walking from activity to activity because there’s “never enough time in the day.” I will not be calling home crying when I’m stressed or calling home excited when I’ve succeeded. I will not be anticipating surprise visits from my family or watching younger Kohawks grow into their own skin. I will not be attending sporting events or fundraisers or participating in the Dance Marathon. I will not have all of my friends within walking distance or blurred nights downtown dancing at Hazzards country bar. Never again will I eat one too many cookies in the caf or spend all of my Coe cash in the first month of school. Never again will I anticipate Flunk Day or eat cereal for dinner for the fourth time in a week. Never again will I walk the side-walks of Coe to the tune of the cicadas or witness the seasons unfold to the landscape of corn. Everything I have known and loved for the past four years is done. Gone. In the past.
A mere memory and four-year blur.
No one prepared me. No one told me how hard this transition would be. On Instagram I see people excited about graduating and moving on. Individuals thriving in the real world. Retired athletes hanging their cleats without remorse. However, I can’t be the only one hurting, can I? I can’t be the only one struggling to just “move on.” I can’t be the only one wishing I could start my college days all over again. I can’t be the only one with a sudden identity crisis…right? A wise teammate and friend once told me that sometimes it’s better to have a hard time moving on because then at least I know I had an amazing college experience. While this is valid and a good perspective to have, I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the denial stage of grief. What I’ve “lost” isn’t actually lost to me yet. I’ve neglected the inevitable. I was not ready. I’m still not ready. But I have to be. I must force myself to move on. Not forget, not un-appreciate, not neglect. But simply transition, looked forward, and continue with the changing chapters of my life.
Five years ago, I began the college search. Wanting to go out of state to play soccer, I had big dreams of life in NYC post-high school. However, every school I visited on “The Great American College Search,” as my mom called it, didn’t click with who I was as a person. Dozens of schools after dozens of schools I left campus visits feeling disconnected from the college, culture, and team. I didn’t fit in. I couldn’t be myself.
Not knowing where I would end up, my mom suggested I check out a small liberal arts school in Iowa during the fall of my senior year.
“Where!?”
“Iowa in the Midwest,” my mom replied.
“Umm yeah, no thanks.”
Next thing I knew, I was on a flight to Iowa…the first of 16 in my four years to come.
Coe was the first school I visited where I felt at home. I loved the red brick buildings. The faculty and staff. The students. The classrooms. The coaches and team. The facilities. The Victory Bell. The endless opportunities. The flowers. The surrounding city. The friendliness. The rigor. The school spirit. The seasons. Most importantly, I loved that I could be myself. In one short weekend I found my four-year home. The place where I’d fail and then succeed. The place where I’d cry and then jump for joy. The place where I’d grow my love for life, learning, and soccer. The place where I’d be challenged to become the best version of myself and mold into the person I am today. The place where I’d be accepted and acknowledged. The place where I’d face hardships. The place where I’d learn lessons. The place where I’d be rebellious. The place where I’d discover my love for karaoke, dancing, and nights on the town. The place where I’d get to see my grandparents more in four years than the past 18 years prior. The place where I’d discover who I am and work toward who I want to become. The place where I’d grow in confidence, self-appreciation, and quirks. The place where I’d try something new and live life on the edge. The place where I’d travel outside of my comfort zone and take risks. The place where I’d find my forever friends and mentors. The place where I’d join three too many clubs. The place where I’d evolve as a teammate, roommate, Delta sorority sister, leader, and friend. The place where I’d break out from my shell. The place where I’d develop and grow. The place where I never anticipated to spend my four years but am beyond thankful that I did. Life has a funny way of giving you exactly what you need before you even know you need it. And I guess it’s safe to say that moms are always right…but don’t tell her I said that ;)
So, four years came and went and suddenly I traded a jersey for a cap/gown and textbooks for a diploma. My world was rocked. Who am I without school? Who am I without soccer? Who am I beyond Coe? To be honest, I still don’t know.
What I do know, though, is that I am a follower of Christ. I’m a daughter, sister, niece, cousin, and friend. I am a competitor. I am driven. I am goal-oriented. I am a lover of life and all of its people. I am resilient. I am grit-filled. I am compassionate. I am emotional. I take on more than I should. I stress and worry too much. I trust easily and am gullible. I have the sense of humor of a 60-year-old man. I drink too much coffee. I love the outdoors. I’m an avid reality TV watcher. I hoard too many items and never throw away old running shoes. I’m a better advice giver than I am an advice taker. I console. I empathize. I defeat odds. I’m a night on the town party animal, but also a movie and sweat pants couch potato. I’m confident in myself and my abilities. I’m a Type One Diabetic. I’m care free…but also very “type A.” I’m sarcastic. I’m a little too bubbled/innocent for my age. I'm passionate about many hobbies. I’m a Lil Wayne and work out girl in the morning, but a Thomas Rhett and campfire girl at night. I’m a number one fan and a big cheerleader. I’m a lifelong learner. I’m a lifelong athlete. I’m a lifelong Kohawk.
To transition doesn’t mean to forget. To move on doesn’t mean to neglect. To pursue a life beyond college doesn’t mean to ignore. The past four years don’t define who I am—they only mold me into who I want to continue becoming. Life is bigger than school. Life is bigger than sports. Life is bigger than the past. Memories are meant to be remembered, not relived. Moments are meant to bring smiles, not a yearning to go back in time. Experiences are meant to provide stories, not remorse for what was. Although, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that this has all been hard for me to accept.
So yes, I guess it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. While this doesn’t make the transition period any easier, it gives me ease knowing I am one of the lucky few who received the perfect four-year fairytale I did. From the field to the classroom, friends to mentors, and experiences within the states and abroad, I am blessed. I am fortunate. I have no reason to cry and every reason to smile.
It’s time for new Kohawks to come in and fall in love with Coe just like I did five years ago as a senior in high school. It’s time for them to transition. It’s time for someone to fill my seat in the classroom, wear my jersey on the field, and hold my leadership role in Delta.
“The past is like using your rearview mirror in the car, it’s good to glance back and see how far you’ve come but if you stare too long, you’ll miss what’s right in front of you” (anonymous).
So, to my teammates, friends, sorority sisters, professors, mentors, and my beloved alma mater, thank you. Thank you for giving me a rearview mirror image that’s so vibrant and fun. Thank you for molding me into who I am today. Thank you for giving me a home away from home. Thank you for making it so hard to say, “see you later.”
And to all students (athletes, musicians, actors, club leaders, innovators, etc.) here’s my piece to you: breathe, take it in, soak up all of the minutes, never take anything for granted, and bask in the glory of your four-year journey. While it may not always be easy or fun, I can assure you it will always be worth it. College, and life, is too short to be down in the dumps about grades, playing time, a bad performance, what chair you are in band, a lost election, a break up, stress, etc. Remember to smile more and worry less. Lend a hand where it’s needed. Use your time to do what makes you happy. Know that there are ALWAYS more hours in the day than you think. Go on that date. Propose that project. Wear that Flunk Day outfit. Sing that song at Grey’s. Audition for that musical. Watch that movie with your roommates at 2a.m. Go on that weekend adventure. Spend that money. Donate that amount of time. Apply for that position. Try that new move on the field. Slide into those DM’s. Have that hard conversation. Break those barriers. Do it all. Every. Single. Thing. You. Are. Inclined. To do. JUST DO IT. One day you’ll move on from Coe and the opportunity will be gone. Take hold of your moment and seize the day. It’s your four-year experience to create. I hope you create a good one.
To 18-year-old me (but mostly, my mom), I owe you one. A huge one. You have taken me on the grandest adventure of my 22 years—an adventure I will cherish for my lifetime to come.
And finally, to current me, the past is not made to be relived. Go seize the present a create your future. Do not take anything for granted. Take nothing lightly and don’t let life pass you by. Stop and smell the roses and remind yourself to appreciate even the smallest moments. Have the same excitement and yearning for the chapter to come like you did four years ago when embarking on your journey at Coe. Smile more than you frown. Laugh more than you cry. Take risks more than you calculate and “play it safe.” Look forward more than you look back. Commemorate the moments behind you, but don’t dwell. Eighteen-year-old you would expect nothing less. No matter where life takes you, Coe will never be far from your heart. Afterall, it’s had such an immense impact on the person you are right now. Run with it and go seek the crazy whirlwind life you desire. Life is for the living. The living is for now. Now is your time.
And remember, once a Kohawk, always a Kohawk.
Inhale.
Let’s do this.