The End of the Love

May 14, 1998  Thursday

It this doesn’t convince anyone of the ease of a Dr. Fraiser class, nothing will.  When I got to class he didn’t have the tests for Film run off–the finals–so he had to go do that while we waited.  In a few minutes he returned and passed out his test… and then left again.  The final?  It consisted of one question: “Of the movies we viewed this year, which would you award “Best Picture,” and why?”  That was it, and in five minutes I was out the door.

When I got back from my Film final, I found Collinsville waiting around for me to say goodbye before he drove south.  I really appreciated that.

Tom showed up to the first floor computer lab later that afternoon, looking for me.  We went over to Macomb High School to watch his own high school, Quincy-Notre Dame, play tennis.  Tom has already gone home last night, but came back because he had too had played tennis for Q-ND during high school.

And then I cleaned.  And cleaned.  And cleaned.  Slowly I got everything packed away, while we all watch the finale to Seinfeld.  Dad arrived at eight.  It was pretty hard to do, say goodbye I mean.  My home for a year was desolate and the walls were barren.  I hadn’t gotten the poster of five wolves Jake and I had put up–Jesse took that home.  And Jeremy never said goodbye.  I carried out all of my things, and then went up the elevator one last time to the old Fourth Floor to get my posters.  I said goodbye to my roommate D, which was also kinda hard.  He had written on my Pink Floyd poster in silver marker that that considered me a brother, and I had thought of him the same way.  That done, I went to a ‘vator and walked out of Thompson Hall.

As Dad pulled out of Thompson’s lot he began to say, with his philosopher hat firmly on, something about “the laughing and the tears, the hardships and the goodbyes, and now it’s all just a memory.”  Well, now at least I knew where I got my sentimental, thoughtful side.  But really, I was barely listening, as I looked out my window, watching the Thompson in the low light of early dusk…and remembering.

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