Posts published in “Senioritis”

For the past three years, my fall weekends followed a rigidly responsible script. Spontaneity had to be penciled into my calendar at least two weeks in advance.

I used to bring books to sleepovers and birthday parties when I was younger, sometimes not to read, but to hold in case some social catastrophe happened, like a lucky charm hidden in my sleeping bag that I didn’t want to reveal.

Earlier this week, sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by markers, crayons, and colored pencils, my roommate and I took part in, what some would call, a sacred college tradition — drafting the Senior Year Bucket List.

I started playing soccer in the elementary recreational league, where Saturday mornings became hair ribbons, cleats, and the smell of detergent on the grass stains smeared into my jersey.

There is a distinct, unwritten ritual to the first day of classes. You wake up five minutes before your alarm, agonizing over an outfit that says “effortlessly put together” rather than “I just finished track and field lift five minutes ago.”

Dear Freshman Year Abby, 

Hey. It’s you… from the future. I wanted to use my last Senioritis article to write to you and give some spoiler alerts for your next three years.

It’s the last thirty seconds of senior year, many find the overwhelming sense of nostalgia nauseating, a constant muggy feeling in the background of every final class, club meeting, or late-night side quest.

So we are in the homestretch. It’s April, the weather is starting to warm up just a bit, and the graduation plans are being planned.

Ahhh, back from a nice and relaxing spring break, what every college student looks forward to and not-so-meticulously plans. It seems like everyone is buzzing around the week before spring break with murmurs of Cabo, San Juan, and, dare I say, Punta Cana humming in the background.