At a certain turn on my walk home from Salt, I unfailingly begin counting days. It always happens and has become sort of a reflex in my mind that is triggered by the intersection of Sherman and State. I count days since I have been here, and days that I have left to go. It’s not a desperate countdown to release–far from it, as I have noticed that the days feel like hours here and the weeks like days. When walking home today, I realized one-third of my time here is over. One-third. 33.3%. A large chunk of a probably very delicious pie. All gone. Over. Dunzo.
This epiphany honestly made me a little nervous. If one-third of this could already have flown by, how quickly will the other 66% go? Faster? I am really beginning to love being here in Portland and New England, learning with other young adults who have the same interests and curiosities I do. And now, with 79 days left to go, I’m mildly terrified it will all be over before I know it.
I have great confidence that I will know much more about the world and maybe a little more about myself come May 22. I know that this experience will be remembered as an incredible opportunity in my relatively short life thus far. I just want it to slow down a bit, so that the next time I turn the corner and another third has disappeared, it won’t be so surprising.
