Fresh(man) off the Boat

I arrived in Michigan excited, curious, and half-asleep. I was an explorer in a strange, foreign land, which the natives called Detroit Metropolitan Airport. I knew where I was headed, I had committed to the University of Michigan for months, yet, this was my first time in the state. It created a peculiar state of unknowing that I had never felt before. It was a feeling that I did not take much time to reflect on. I was too busy corralling two wayward suitcases. And so the grandest adventure of my life thus far began, not with a bang, but with a half-stifled yawn as I walked past a closed McDonald’s.

Over the next few weeks, I began to learn more about my new home. One of the most quintessential experiences of the out-of-state student, is the “weather talk”. I had never experienced more than two feet of snow, much less a true blizzard. Every time, I asked, I saw the same reaction. A slight widening of the eyes, a hesitation that was just a little bit too long, and finally, a nervous, forced giggle. “Of course, you’ll be fine”, reassuringly said, but not with any hint of true belief. I supposed that it was only the natural course of events, the circle of life. I would freeze in the winter storm and be reborn in the fickle sunshine of the spring. I swore to myself that I would become a true Michigander (Michiganian? Michiganite?). Soon, I, too, would be able to nod my head cynically and wisely assure a wide-eyed, unworldly freshman, that they were going to survive with most of their fingers and toes intact. I was ready to be the student on the cover of every college brochure; strolling down the sidewalk, smiling, confident in their destination.

Unfortunately, life is constantly taking turns, not unlike a squirrel distracted by a nut. I woke up one day and it was midterms already. Fall was in full blossom. Colors had crept up the leaves like a slow disease. It was all a bad dream, moving in quick flashes. One moment, I was studying at midnight. The next, I was staring down at the test writing down my U-M ID number. I didn’t even know when I had memorized it. And then, it was over and graded and done, and I was left wondering if I had experienced college at all. If college was supposed to be place of monumental change, then it must have passed me by.

Yet, as I walked back to my room, I realized I had. I experienced the freedom of waking up without parents. I got the opportunity to study where I wanted, when I wanted. I ate more chocolate chip cookies than I can count, jaywalked, and fed a squirrel. As a freshman, I wanted dramatic change. I wanted to be the winter storm, blasting through the door, entirely new. I got the small stuff instead, as imperceptible as the reddening of the autumn leaves, until it is all around you, swirling in the wind.