I think I'll make a memory

It's the night before I leave to fly home marking the end of my last spring break. I spent the week with my mother. The first half of the week we were in NYC and then we drove through a blizzard (literally, it was declared whiteout, blizzard conditions) to Buffalo, NY. The move to western NY was partly due to my cousin's wedding shower and partly due to the fact that my aunts and uncles would be cleaning out more of my grandmother's house.

I was so nervous to come back here, my grandmother's house. The house that I spend every childhood summer in and 21 Christmas'--we only stayed in the south once for the holidays. In this little white house, I learned that rugs can be hung on the wall as art, furniture can switch rooms and be rearranged in an unending number of ways and that a spot can always be made for "an extra chair" at the dinning room table. I learned to pick my battles, that coffee is good at anytime of the day, that red is the only type of wine to drink and that you need a vigil candle lit next to the kitchen stove at all times. The walls of this home hold so much history. My grandparents bought it right after they were married and a family of love and organized chaos was built over the past 60 years.

As I get ready to say goodbye to this house, an icon of our family, I find myself longing for a quite moment to myself. A moment to say goodbye. Yet, as I sit here and think about when I'll find that quiet (a antonym of our family) moment, I tune into the piano playing in the front room, the boisterous voices coming from the family room, the sniffles from my mom and her sisters in my grandmother's room, and the shuffles of the kitchen roamer getting a bowl of ice cream (my grandfather's favorite snack and late night tradition). These things, these people are what make this house a home. Quite time isn't what I need, family is what I need now and always.

God gives us the people we need

Fourteen months ago, I was a frantic mess. Who was I going to live with? I loved my apartment, but my roommate, whom I also loved, was graduating. I couldn't find anyone to move into her room, so I started looking elsewhere, but everyone seemed to already have plans. I came across a Facebook post on the UGA Free & For Sale page by a girl looking for two roommates to move into their apartment. It was random and scared me since I did not know the girl, but I took a chance. I reached out and visited their apartment. My friend, whom was going to live with us, ended up finding another place. So, it ended up being me and three girls whom I did not know. For me, it was a risk, a big one, because I was going to live the consequences, good or bad, of this decision for a year. Yes, a year is not that long, but I believe in being selfish when it comes to housing. You should want to come home and feel comfortable at home, so, for me, it was a risk. A risk that paid off.

I have been extremely blessed by my roommates. They have not only become dear, dear friends, but they have also taught me, helped me and allowed me to grow. This afternoon, after a week of exams and cold weather, my roommate and I opened a bottle of wine, sat on the couch and just talked. It was one of those moments that, while it was happening, I realized that it was special. I was lucky to be surrounded by women who are pushing me to understand more and become a better person. 

A year ago, I didn't know my three roommates. Now, they play a major role in my life. God knew that I would need these women this year and that they would need me. The moment of pure happiness this afternoon was a reminder to trust in The Lord. He brings the people that we need into our lives when we least expect it. It is also a reminder that sometimes we need to let relationships go. Some people God only intended to stay in our lives for a few weeks, a few months or a few years. Saying goodbye doesn't mean that you don't care, but rather that you, as an individual are growing and that is ok. Take each moment and relationship in stride. Pray. Follow His plan.