When I arrived at Jones Hall, I was running on four hours of sleep after my 6 a.m. flight from San Francisco. I trudged my way up to my dorm, dragging my 55-pound suitcase behind me. My family, friends and home were 1,853 miles away for the next four weeks.
My only solace: I thought my future roommate would be a guaranteed friend.
A few hours passed, and she still hadn’t arrived. With a few late arrivals trickling in, I didn’t think much of it. The thought of our future friendship reassured me. That night, I laid awake in bed and felt panic creep in. Where was she? Everyone else was befriending their roommate, and I was still alone. I didn’t know how to confidently socialize without a foothold in one of the developing social circles. I missed the familiarity of my home, and I hated worrying that I might unexpectedly start bawling in public. Resigned to my roommate-less fate, I vowed to devote myself to my assignments. I bought Target pre-made salads (supplemented by an alarming number of Goldfish) to evade the harrowing dining hall and avoided the beach.
By the end of the week, I realized self-imposed isolation was not going to conjure up a roommate.
The next morning, I sat with a random group of cherubs and talked with a few fellow Californians. It was surprisingly fun. I challenged myself to eat with new people at every meal. Each introduction started the same, but every conversation ended differently. I thought that maybe I could socialize without the reassurance of a roommate. Journalism had taught me to be curious and slightly invasive, so why couldn’t I take a risk and make some friends?
Four days into the program, one of the community and academic associates tapped me on the shoulder during a morning lecture. My roommate stood in the back of the room, dragging her own 55-pound suitcase. We spent the program enjoying the peaceful companionship, tolerating each other’s late-night phone calls and developing a quiet friendship.
Every day, I walked the sidewalks around Jones Hall, surrounded by kind people whose friendship inspired me to stay positive and be joyful. In Fisk Hall, I sat beside them – girls bonded by our love for journalism and each other. I spent every meal with them, laughing at the fleeting nature of our problems and visited the beach on an almost daily basis. I began this program surrounded by silence and ended it with the constant roar of laughter ringing in my ears.
I never stopped missing home, but I realized I would miss my new home at cherubs even more.
