We notice each other as we make our separate ways across the room at the NSO party, where we are both wishing we were still freshmen.

“Hey! How are you??”

Damnit. She had to initiate it. Here we go…    “Oh my God!! I’m GREAT! How are you??”

Please say you have somewhere to be. Please say you have to go. Please say—

“Amaaaazing. How was your summer?!?”

Ugh.

“It was really good, how was yours?”

Say you lived at home and did nothing and you have to go now. Say it.

“It was SO great, I actually traveled to South America, and I met this great guy, and I ended up getting a job offer, and basically my whole life is set! How about you? “            

At this point in the stock backfrom- the-summer conversation, I have to tell my long-lost BFFAE at the frat party we are both too old for that I did the work/travel option of a Penn student’s summer. The other option, of course, would have been the “stayed at Penn and took a few classes” response. Anyway, then she inevitably wants me to elaborate, and I have to tell her where I worked (New York), where I traveled (Seattle, Las Vegas, Israel, Guatemala…and Rhode Island, if that counts), and, of course, where I am living this year (do your own research). Then she’ll tell me her life story, and then about 10 minutes later, we’ll finally part ways and reach the opposite ends of the room, to which we were originally heading before getting caught in the aforementioned web of the back-from-summer routine.

At this point, I’ve just started being brutally honest with people, to avoid the whole conversation. As soon as I see that “how was your summer” gleam in their eye, I’ll jump right in with a “come on, neither one of us actually wants to have this conversation, right? Let’s just pretend it’s the middle of the year already!” Of course, that completely backfired on me a couple of nights ago, when someone responded, “actually, I really enjoy hearing about what people did, because my summer was really depressing.” Honestly, throw me a bone here. What can a person possibly say to that? I asked her why it was so terrible, and all I got was a sad “you don’t wanna know,” and off she went. That’ll teach me for trying to avoid the pleasantries.

I don’t think this particular routine ever actually bothered me as much as it does this year. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it’s my last one. Next year, no one’s going to care what I did with my summer when September rolls around. Not that they really care now, but at least there’s some kind of symbolic border between “vacation” and “back at Penn”. Next year, my summer will just slowly turn into Fall, with no NSO or nosy quasi-friends to declare its dissipation. Next year, I’ll be…an adult. I won’t get into museums at reduced prices. I won’t get to join clubs and activities for free – well, not for free, but you know what I mean. I won’t have structure or direction – I’ll just have me and the rest of my life to deal with. I know I sound like your basic directionless and scared senior, but it really is one of the worst feelings, to know that the moment I start getting used to this place, I have to leave it. To borrow a particularly pertinent quote from my little brother’s incredible high school graduation speech:

A former teacher of mine asked me if I was excited about going to college. I don’t know, I responded. I only just figured out what I was doing here. She replied, That’s when you know it’s time to move on. It’s funny how the same wisdom applies four years later. Only this time…the question is whether I’m excited about life itself.

My boyfriend has been out of college for a year or so now. I remember when he graduated; he was feeling the same kind of dread of life, of growing up. Of course, he’s doing great, and nothing is ever as bad as it seems it will be. But he still gets to live vicariously through me as I enjoy my final months as an undergrad. When I’m out of here, I feel like I’ll have no more connection to college. I don’t want to be that weird alum that shows up at parties and pretends to still be in college. I want to stay in college. Forever. I mean, I just got here.

I know this article sounds kind of like something I should write at the end of this year, not at the beginning. But the anxiety is just particularly strong right now, right when it’s all starting up for the last time. Everyone’s asking me how my summer was, and nobody really cares, and I hate that. But at the same time, I’m realizing I’ll never really have it again. And that…sucks.

Well, here’s to making the most of it. Let’s hope I remember to do just that.