On my first day immersed in the life of a college student, I scoured Jones Hall for room 317. I finally found my door, marked by a name tag “Millie Reich, Los Angeles, CA,” and, to my surprise, nothing else. Just my name, alone on the door, in a hall full of pairs.
Admittedly, I was relieved. Forced socialization past a certain hour has never been my favorite thing. Even so, I was daunted by the expansive four hours until the first program event which I knew would be full of awkward conversations and icebreakers. Talking to a roommate would have filled that time.
My mom and I kept ourselves busy for the next few hours. We explored Evanston and looted the local Crossroads thrift store. But once the last-minute Target essentials were bought and my room was set up perfectly, I realized that was it.
My parents lingered as long as socially acceptable, and after our final goodbyes, I was left with…myself.
After about half an hour, I decided to leave my room with worries that I would spend the next four weeks friendless. As soon as I opened my door, I met the girl in the single next to mine. She wore the same denim shorts and white T-shirt I had put on that morning. Comforted by our matching outfits and introductory conversation, I knew I wasn’t going to be lonely.
Spoiler alert: I made friends, some of the best in my life, and along the way, I began to forget my initial roommate jealousy.
After hours of classes, conversations and adventures, my room became a safe place and an escape from the chaos of 84 teenagers living together. I woke up, went to sleep and made my bed (or not) on my own schedule.
Although I cherished this freedom, the time alone was much sweeter knowing my friends were waiting for me outside my door.
