Well, here I am in an almost completely empty apartment with only three days left on Trumbull Street. Mom, Dad, Ian, and Greer all came out for graduation, which was lovely.
We celebrated together for a whole week, enjoying the best food New Haven has to offer and hitting up all my favorite Yale activities - Mory's, a Glee Club concert, a Whiffenpoofs concert, trips through the library, long tours of the Yale Art Gallery and the Yale Center for British Art.
The whole time I couldn't help but feel a sense of incompleteness. A masters degree is a wonderful thing and certainly didn't happen easily, but after watching the processions of the magnificent doctoral robes at graduation, I realized I am far from finished with this. When I finished college I was quite ready to be done with school, but after this graduation I only wanted to head into the library and get back to work.
As soon as I finished that last final, New Haven totally changed for me. I thought I would be so happy to finally be able to do all the fun things I was always too busy to enjoy, but the second the work was over I suddenly had little interest in this place. Of course the people are wonderful and I have been grateful for extra time with my friends, but my Yale experience has been about uniquely one thing: my studies.
My college roommates and I were once horrified when a professor of ours told us why she had chosen an academic life. She was a quirky woman to begin with, but I'll never forget one instance where she got an especially crazed look in her eye and hissed, "THE BOOKS - THE BOOKS - I JUST WANT TO BE WITH THE BOOKS." It was super weird, and all of us knew in that moment we could never sequester ourselves for the rest of our lives to replace people with texts.
With apologies to that professor, I totally get it now. When you find a subject you really love, nothing satisfies like alone time with the books. I already miss my authors, I miss sprinting through giant volumes and knowing I was learning so much every day. I feel as though I haven't eaten since that last Dante final ended, and I am already so hungry.
My apartment is almost totally empty, but I still haven't been able to return my library books. I'm off to go do it now. My clothes, paintings, kitchen ware, and furniture are all gone and my apartment is no longer the home it has been, but this little trip to the library is going to hurt. I guess it's not goodbye, but just "till next time."