Don’t Buy Me Another Pair Of Pants. Forever.

It’s my last night here in New Jersey before heading back to Philly in the morning for the Fall semester. I guess it would be my typical fashion to write a nostalgic piece about seasons ending and saying goodbye to loved ones. The fact of the matter though is I’m not feeling all that sentimental tonight. Of course there’s always that sadness when parting ways from childhood friends and leaving the comforts of your parents house, but as the years go by it gets easier to leave. The friends I have here now are the golden ones, the ones that have lasted, that I have grown with rather than apart from. Even though a number of us have separated geographically, our conversations always seem to pick up right where they left off.

Summers at the Jersey Shore have always been special to me. I would spend countless hours walking along the sand at night, contemplating whatever subject was making my heart heavy at the time. I wanted so badly for those days to last forever, but even that is getting easier to leave. I suppose it has to do with the place I am right now in my life. Philadelphia and everything there has become such a part of me that it’s strange to imagine a time when that wasn’t the case. I believe in all the things I’m working on - school, work, organizations, creative endeavors, relationships - in Philly and elsewhere, wholeheartedly. Thinking back on a time when I was unsure, that’s when it was scary. Scary to leave, to say goodbye, to perhaps return and find things completely different than how they once were. But I’ve come to welcome that change and recognize it as necessary growth. I couldn’t be more pleased or honored to experience that growth with the people I choose to spend my time with, and who choose to spend their time with me.

Now, look what I’ve done. I’ve gotten myself all nostalgic. And I haven’t even begun battening down the hatches for hurricane Irene.