On the fourth floor, light pours in and palm trees sway only a few feet from the glass windows. The hall has that first day-of-school scent that reminds me of elementary years. That pepto-pink, liquid bathroom soap smell with shiny waxed floors carrying the aroma of some unknown mystery cleaning agent.
Clean. Fresh. New.
January is my favorite month for many reasons, (ahem, Aquarius birthday coming up) but in college, it’s a new semester; a fresh set of classes with unrusted ideas and creative conquests set out before us.
I happily pulled out my credit card at the bookstore today to purchase my literature textbooks and, admittedly, I geeked out over a few of my class syllabuses (Japanese romance and Assyrian epics, I’m in).
I’m overwhelming grateful to start classes again, and to be in my senior year of college. I was pretty much smiling the entire day – walking around campus in the eighty degree, sunny weather, my backpack full of literature and stories to be read, empty journals and fresh ballpoint
pens to write stories and thoughts untold.
Here’s to a new year, a new beginning, and another chance to get my gpa to that damn 3.5.