Start Time August 25, 2006 6:30 a.m.
I gave my mother a hug goodbye and my father and I traveled three hours south to Mount Marty College. I was driving my car and he was in his truck. Both vehicles were filled to the brim with all of my personal possessions. From all articles of clothing to a television and mini fridge, I had everything I would need to survive. This is what I thought at least.
Within the first couple of days, I finally got my room organized and began to get a feel for the person that I would live with for the next nine months. My roommate was extremely personable and I knew that we were going to get along great. The initial college jitters began to fade. Everything seemed like it was going to be just fine when all of the sudden the tides began to change and everything began to quickly go downhill.
First of all, my first college tests began to creep up on me. This honor roll high school student was getting C’s and D’s on all of her tests. Secondly, my dorm room felt like a jail cell rather than a home. It seemed to get smaller and smaller every time I entered and left it. There was no room for storage and I could not sleep at night on the beds that were two feet too short. Lastly, basketball, the game that I had known and loved forever seemed like an unending hell that I could not escape. I felt as if my basketball scholarship was the only thing that was keeping me from walking off the court every day at practice.
For the first couple months of school, I cried myself to sleep at night and had to call my sister every day. She had just graduated from college and knew exactly how I was feeling. She reassured me every time that I talked to her that it would get better with time. I questioned her advice. Time to me was simply minutes, hours, and days. Time was not medicine and it definitely would not help me in any way.
However, day by day, I began to have faith in my sister’s advice. Time really was the answer. I began to figure out how to take tests at the college level, my friends became my sisters and made me feel at home, and I began to fall in love with the game of basketball once again. More and more enjoyment came from my college experience every day that I was there. By the time I went home for Christmas break, I felt as if I was once again away from home. This was not because I was not back in my home town; it was because I was away from my college family.
Time can heal some wounds. This I believe.
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