I have returned to Vanderbilt’s beautiful campus. As my mom, my brother and I hauled my stuff to my dorm, Daniel commented, “Hm, Vanderbilt smells good.” I took a good whiff, and he was right. Fresh, clean air with a hint of rain. Perhaps it’s all the greenery.
After they left, I unpacked and went to the Founder’s Walk to rep Vanderbilt Association of Hispanic Students. All the freshman, excuse me, “First-years,” are paraded through the gates of Vanderbilt and campus organizations line the path with welcoming banners. As I watched the hope and uncertainty in the eyes of the yet-to-be-disillusioned freshmen, it hit me that I was now at the top. A senior.
I have now said, outloud, “I am a senior,” a total of three times, and it still sounds like I’m lying.
It’s the beginning of the end. We’ve already started the whole, “Oh! This is the last time we’re going to [insert experience]!” I know that despite the vast unknown beyond graduation, it’s going to be a great year. Some of my peers know where they’re going: grad school, med school, law school…My path is a little more blurry, but I’m comforted by the fact that the first job I get fresh out of college is not what I have to do for the rest of my life. I can do whatever I want. It’s really about the journey. The quote, “Happiness is a journey, not a destination,” is true. I may not know where I’m going, but I’m going to enjoy the ride.