After two brutal hours of listening to pencils on paper, fingers clicking calculator buttons and the threatening, ticking clock in Auditorium 4 of the MLB, I was done. I had finished my exam for Statistics 250 and I immediately felt as if a weight the size of Texas had been lifted off of my shoulders. This had by far been my hardest semester at the University of Michigan yet, and it was finally over. After getting over the initial shock of never having to take another math course again in my life, I drove over to pick up my fellow-now-Statistics-veteran friend in the dreary, rainy night for a night of wine, mac and cheese, wedding shows and tears.
As we sat there, sipping our $10 White Zinfandel from glasses, drowning out the noise with Ed Sheeran and One Direction, we started talking about our pasts. This is still such a strange concept to me, that I have a past. It is even stranger that this person whom I consider one of my best friends in the entire world doesn’t know all that much about my past. I pulled up an old Facebook album from my junior year of high school. As I clicked through the pictures of football games, retreats and trips, I was telling her the names of these people who were also some of my best friends in the entire world who she had never even met.
We began talking about how bizarre it was that we were there sitting on this bed in a room in a house in Ann Arbor, Michigan on a cold and rainy December day, and there were these people thousands of miles away (1160 miles to be exact, but who’s counting?) who had impacted my life so greatly and they didn’t know about her. They didn’t know I had just finished my Stats exam. They didn’t know that this semester I met tons of new friends, learned a lot about new things, and traveled around the Midwest.
I started thinking about how all of these people, experiences and memories were so special and unique to me that sometimes I would completely forget that there are these separate parts of my life that don’t really intersect. They all mesh into one storyline in my mind, obviously, because it is one storyline from my perspective, but to everyone else, I am just a separate part of their storyline. (Time is wibbly-wobbly, right?) All of these people have affected me and impacted the way that I am as a person: past, present and future. Their presence in my life has been a little piece to the crazy, confusing, incomplete puzzle that makes up Sydney.
So, as a moral of this rambling of my thoughts, I encourage you to take a few minutes this week to think about the people and experiences that have shaped you. Maybe text or call a friend from your past, letting them know they are still important to you even if you’ve moved away or started doing other things with your life. Plan to meet up with a current friend to catch up on what you’re doing and what they’re doing. Go out and meet new people to have even more people and experiences in your future. We are made to interact and to have relationships. We are meant to love others and to learn from others. Take the light and love you get from those people in your life and use it to become a better person.
“There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.”
—Bram Stroker, Dracula