3.6 Maureen Brandl Writing 2

Adulthood on the Horizon   
In 2013, I moved to La Crosse to attend college. I was 18 and a fierce mixture of confidence and naivety, craving to get out in the world. Moving out was a pivotal moment that, in a way, felt like crossing over a tangible line that distinguished childhood from adulthood.   

The desire to leave my hometown was fueled by teen angst and the yearning for new people and new places. I had wanted to attend UW-La Crosse since the moment I fell in love with it my freshman year of high school after staying on campus for the state track meet. I had been so convinced that La Crosse was the next chapter in my life that it was the only school I applied to. 

 

It was a long three-hour drive to La Crosse on a humid day in August. I was uncomfortably squished in the passenger seat under a Nike gym bag with my feet on top of my new-to-me microwave. The weight of anticipation was starting to crush my lungs as I watched the hills and fields roll by. It felt like a piece of home was following me. 

I could not wait to get out of the car until the second we pulled into the parking lot. It was complete chaos outside of Laux Hall, my new home. The number of people that I saw moving into a singular building was unfathomable; I was from a town of 500 people after all. My stomach dropped—my extroverted personality abruptly turned introverted.  

 

My mom could not stay long because she had to go home and help with barn chores, leaving me to my own devices while other parents seemed to linger, putting off goodbyes. No window fan could push out all of the humidity and intense emotion in the air. 

 

I sat on my bed, staring at the empty half of the room as my randomly assigned roommate was yet to move in. My door was open per my R.A.’s advice, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. 

As my level of anxiety grew, so did my level of hunger. I contemplated if I was brave enough to ask someone on my floor if they would like to eat with me or if I was brave enough to get food alone. Feeling like the new kid was a new feeling for me; it was dreadful. 

My internal debate was disrupted when I felt someone plop onto my mattress next to me. It was the tall blonde girl who had been moving into the room directly across the hall. We held a brief pause, and I could feel our nervous energy colliding. A rush of hilarity ensued from nowhere as the silence broke with our awkward laughter. Which then turned into real laughter and finally lead to introductions. 

We ended up getting dinner that night and every night after that. She is still one of my best friends to this day.