A Senior's Reflection

I arrived in Philly on one auspicious morn with my dad,

so that we could tour Penn. I was excited then

—terribly frightened—but full of exuberance toward

the college experience. When we arrived at 4:00 AM

on a Friday, we walked by a fraternity house

and I glimpsed inside for a few moments. There,

a group of frat boys sat on the stairs,

bottles in their hands, and I could tell they were having

some kind of deep conversation. I wanted to believe

that it was an intellectual or personal conversation

with much at stake, for I had always fantasized from

an early age of telling my closest friends my

closest secrets. I’ve told a few to a few.

My eyes, tired as they were from the night, 
barely perceived the light wafting in 
through the blinds, inviting the uninitiated

to partake in the sunny day. It was an 
auspicious day—and the weather, being nice, 
fooled me into thinking that days here would 
always be this way—my tanned California face 
still had a shred of idealism in it. I lack a 
moment’s regret, but a sadness looms in 
a longing for the past.