Tendrils

It is difficult for me to grasp the concept that I have been at college for a mere 27 days. Twenty-seven days of life lessons that vary in weight. Twenty-seven days of new friends, some of which I would already willingly place in the lineup of my wedding party. I have grown to love the early hours of the morning considering that the obvious freshman in me decided that it would be a good idea to schedule all of my classes before sunrise. Coach Dixon, when you told me to never schedule a class before 9:30 a.m., you were not kidding. And I admit, with little dismay, that you were right and I should have listened. There is no such thing as being a morning person when one is also a college student. However, one of my favorite parts of my mornings is to stroll past the music conservatory where one can hear the lullaby of aspiring musicians perfecting their scales. And although it never fails to put a smile on my face, it is a constant reminder of one of the aspects that I miss most about my home in Beaufort. I have yet to find a place where I can simply sit down and play the piano. For a person who has grown up with a musical instrument at arms length at all times, it is a challenging adjustment to make. But I am learning. Slowly, but surely. I am learning that my life is here now. These are the park benches that I will write my story from. (At least for the next four years.) These are the rooftops that I will stargaze from. These are the streets that will become the tendrils to the web that could lead to a love greater than I could ever fathom. Just the very thought of that excites me. Then again, how could it not? Here I am. Staring with a young-hearted, wide-eyed gaze at the first step of my life. And in reference to limitations, the sky is just the beginning.