Hannah Jones/Winonan

This semester is coming abruptly to a halt.

Sometimes the fact of our one-and-a-half remaining weeks sneaks up on me, usually when I’m writing one of my last papers or picking classes for my second-to-last time ever or studying for finals.

It seems very hard to believe that next year I will be graduating when only yesterday I was a freshman.

I get thoughtful, then I get deep and then I get terrified.

Even now, closing up my third year of college, contemplating graduation scares me.

Post-college represents a big void in my world knowledge that looms in the not-so-distant future.

I have no concept of what it will be like to, for the first time, not be a student.

I can assume I will have my own place to live, my own bills to pay and hopefully, my own job—and maybe a giant dog named Pickles or Honey.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t picture it.

That girl in the future, dressing up to go into the office and coming home to take her awesome dog for a walk, doesn’t seem like me.

She’s a grownup.

I am a college student.

However, since at some point I have to stop panicking and do something useful with my time, I usually go through this logic to calm my nerves a little.

I remember that in the not-so-distant past, I was a freshman.

Don’t get me started about me as a freshman.

I was socially awkward—even more than now, I mean—and I let that get in the way of making friends.

I didn’t know anything about what I wanted to do or be.

I was scared of trying new things.

I couldn’t navigate from my front door to any other building on campus without getting turned around.

I had never been away from home for more than a week.

I had never understood what it was to miss family so badly it hurt.

I had never realized just how much I liked my Mom’s cooking, my Dad’s weird taste in movies, my dog’s sneezes, my bed.

I had never realized just how much I hated NutriGrain Granola Bars.

I didn’t like black coffee.

I had never had a job.

I had never had confidence.

I had never been in a play—with lines and everything.

I had never worn makeup.

I had never actually called myself a feminist.

I had never shared a room with someone outside of my family.

I had never made anything in a crock pot.

I wouldn’t dare walk up to people and interview them.

I wouldn’t feel comfortable writing a story about someone—and publishing it.

Three short years ago, I was that girl: closed-off, quiet and timid.

The girl I am now is almost a different person entirely.

Never could I have conceived just how much I would change over the course of three short years.

In the same way, I can’t conceive of how I will change three years from now.

But that’s okay.

If I’ve changed once for the better, I can do it again.

One day we can all look back on pictures of us from college and groan over the way we dressed, talked and acted, and then we can go back to our jobs and our families and marvel at how much we’ve grown.

And for all those freshmen coming in next fall, green, nervous and probably using the phrases “yolo” and “swag” way too often—that is to say, once:
Don’t worry. You’re going to be great.

Have a great end of the year, everyone.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should probably be studying for that final, now.

Contact Hannah at [email protected]