peaches and oatmeal

Grand Valley and I had a moment yesterday.
It was sunny, and warm enough to leave my jacket behind-which is a big event when you live in West Michigan. In celebration, I decided to take my lunch outside. Peaches canned with Grandma in a warm bowl of oatmeal and cinnamon. Delish. As I sat there reminiscing I started to wonder if I would remember this. When I eat peaches and oatmeal again will it elicit warm memories of my last days at Grand Valley?

I love finals week. There are always free goodies around. This particular morning I was partaking in some FREE earl grey tea, compliments of the GV Libraries. Earl grey is one of my favorites. It kind of smells like fruit loops. I tore open the package, dropped the tea bag into my blue flowered thermos and proceeded to fill it with hot water from the water cooler. The delicious aroma of earl grey swirled up to my nose and I suddenly felt happy. Now, I couldn't place the reason for this sudden emotional response and then I realized it smelled like camp. It smelled like those very early, crisp, feet a little wet from the dewy grass, quiet, tea in hand mornings before staff huddle. Just the smell of earl grey prompted a strong emotional response, a memory of ten weeks worth of mornings. Will this happen with peaches and oatmeal?

A good friend and I had the opportunity to share what we've learned over the past four years of college at our last Young Life Club. As we were about to start, in her infinite wisdom, my beautiful friend said to me, "They aren't going to remember what we say, they'll remember who we are." Wisdom. So much wisdom.

With the tree against my back and the slightly uncomfortable mound covered with wood chips under...well...under me...I decided that this last week didn't need to be epic. I've been feeling like everything in my last two weeks needs to be huge, paramount, epic. Everything has to be the best. Every "last" experience must be forever etched into the tablet of my mind. But it doesn't work that way. These last days will be like a drawing on the shore, most likely washed away by the waves of transition. But the memories that have been created over the past four years won't fade so quickly. They are familiar paths in my heart. Well worn grooves that only time can produce. Repeated journeys; like the thousands of time I've loaded up the sound equipment, met by Java City for coffee dates, walked through the Lake Halls, studied in beloved Zumberg, and taken late night trips to Meijer because there was nothing better to do. These memories, they are deep and lasting. Solidified by time and repetition.

So instead of trying to squeeze every last drop out of this week I just decided to say, "Thank you". Thank you for the last four years. There have been days of sun and days of rain, but all added up, they have been wonderful.

Perhaps years from now, a smell reminescent of the fourth floor, Ben Harper's "Walk Away" or twisting an extension chord will bring me back to Grand Valley, back to the well worn paths. And maybe peaches and oatmeal will remind me to breathe deep. Say thank you. Rejoice in the memories and remember that it's not what I say, but who I am that they will remember.