The End of Spring Semester

This morning, at 7:00 a.m., I released into cyberspace the last assignment of Spring semester.

And I felt very strange.

I have a hard time being "done" with things. Even in the short term.

{and this is the very, very short term since summer semester starts on Monday}

But it meant that I had absolutely nothing that I had to do today. And nothing that I have to do tomorrow. No reading, no forum posting, no research, no writing. In a short amount of time my life has been consumed by study.

And I've really liked it.

But now I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Until Monday, that is.

I had anticipated feeling this way, so I scheduled a day in Eugene with Emily. That sounds selfish. Let me rephrase. I knew this weekend would be the first free one I've had since Christmas break, so I penciled a day trip in several weeks ago.

I think it's a problem not to feel comfortable in one's own skin unless you're in the act of doing what you believe defines you.

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I got up before Peter {I always do; he's a night owl and I'm becoming more and more of a morning person}, and submitted my final assignment. I showered and fed the cat as quietly as one can in a 400 square foot space. I walked out into sun and shockingly warm temperatures. But the sky was brooding. I knew the rain was on its way.

I drove downtown, toward gas {stop number one} and coffee {stop number two}. The coffee was too sweet but I sipped it anyway as I drove an almost-bare old highway the 45 miles that separates Corvallis from Eugene.

I feel a little taken aback and shaken up every time I see one of my sisters. The problem is that they've all grown up too fast. They've changed, they've matured, they've gotten married and had babies, they've fallen in love and are struggling {as I am} to figure out who they are. In my mind, I remember them most distinctly at the ages they were when I was about a freshman in college.

Emily is eight, she is all awkward arms and legs flailing around her body as she waltzes and pirouettes from room to room. She is a ballerina. Her hair curls wildly in different directions, spilling around her face and down her back. She giggles as she dances, a book clutched in one hand, a baby doll in the other. She is quiet and sweet. Secretly, I worry about her awkwardness. Will she grow into herself?

I need not have worried.

Emily opens the door to her apartment, she is tall - much taller than I. Her side-swept bangs graze eyes that are akin to infinite pools of hot chocolate. She is more graceful than ever - a long, leggy gazelle {with style}. She talks about finding her way in academia - her plans for championing the cause of hurting women - her boyfriend, her roommates, her future. I think about how much more mature she is than I at her age. Her smile and giggle come a little more reluctantly than when she was eight, but still, she is ablaze when she smiles.

We eat breakfast, we take a tour of the sorority house she has just joined, we purchase American-made goods at American Apparel, eat chocolate in the rain {it arrived in a fury}, play with lipstick at the cosmetic counter. And too soon, it's time to go.

I drop her off at her apartment, wondering if she knows how splendid she is. Really, truly splendid. I wonder if she knows how much joy and beauty my heart wishes her. All the love in the world.

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I'm enrolled in summer classes, but at basically half-time enrollment. Which means I'll have a lot of extra time on my hands. I have a list of things I'm going to do with that time - like read a list of books from scholars who are important in my field, and do more yoga, and spend more time just being still with my husband, and listening for the voice of the Creator. Posting on this blog is part of my list, along with really observing and thinking about the ways women interact with each other. Women are at the heart of my concern - how we support each other, or how we fail to. How we are sometimes each others best friends, and more often than not, each others fiercest opponents. I can't imagine behaving this way toward my sister. I could not, ever, oppose my sister. None of them.

Why is it so easy to injure our broader network of sisters? The sisters I have by nature of belonging to the human race?

I think it might have something to do with not being comfortable with ourselves. Not being enough.

I might be thinking/writing a lot about this over the summer. Or not. If I do, I hope it doesn't bore you too much.

{and more on Holly and Rebecca next week}