waking up at 4:45 am, my mind is fighting my body to get up out of the comfort of my bed. i borrowed myself in the gap cushioned between two mattresses of my sofabed. my sister, sleeping soundly beside me is curled up in fetal position with her arm over my back. the second alarm goes off. BINGHAMTON. GET UP OR YOU WON’T MAKE IT. the warning on my phone is unnecessary. my brain is already scolding me for not getting up immediately. pack your shit. gotta be on the cross island at 5:30.
quick hot shower. pomegranate and green tea shampoo. grab the toothbursh. don’t forget your pillow, razor, green belt and bottle of irish cream. it is parade day weekend, afterall. i have graduated yet have not had the pleasure of attending the annual st. patrick’s day parade day yet. i have always inconveniently missed it due to a birthday, or a concert.
i start the car to warm it, and am relieved that i was smart enough to fill the gas tank the night before. i thank the world for giving me the freedom to pick up and go, and for the magical car that transports me places. thank you, annoying job that helps me pay for it. thank you, customers who tipped me enough yesterday just so i could blow it all on food, alcohol, and gas. this is my first trip to binghamton since graduation. this is epic.
i am terrified to go back. i am afraid of the change. the kind of change that makes the air smell different, the kind of change that just cannot be grasped or identified. i am determined to get to binghamton without stopping, a full ipod in stock, no coffee, no food, no bathroom breaks. i am a machine.
i pick up lauren, jump on the cross island by 545 and cross the g.w bridge by 6:23. i am a well oiled machine.
after a few hours, and unfortunately — a few stops due to wally playing tricks on me — i cross three state lines, and end up back in new york. the city of binghamton is exactly how i remembered it, except now i am a visitor. a passerby. a temp. main street is covered in irish flags, and the street lines are outlined in green and orange. i curse myself for forgetting my pumpkin coat.
i stop by casey’s for some coffee, bear hugs, and english muffins. i haven’t felt my smile lines stretch that much in almost forever. i drive to campus, surprised at how nothing has changed, i still remember to enter it in the right lane and switch to the left because of the division up ahead. i pass the dorms and smell burgers coming from the dining hall. i am back, baby. it is 40 degrees out, but my window is wide open. i inhale and try to hold it in. i want to keep this feeling forever. its a natural high.
i park the car, head towards palisades. i pass the guy’s next door, and wonder how i should handle seeing them. its always semi-awkward to see someone you drunkenly hooked up with your last night in college. i shrug it off, and stare at the door i’ve walked through in and out, sober and wasted, happy, angry, and depressed, for the past 2 years. walking through my old apartment makes my legs feel like playdough. my old room is shut, and there are green decorations everywhere. deb jumps out of her room and i relive the feeling of bliss all over again. i plump down on the hardass couch, and feel old. but then i look at my old apartment mate, and feel young all over again.
this is a strange feeling, being back. i am still apprehensive.. but simultaneously, i feel the happiest i have felt in too long.
