In my last week and a half of school, I had a conversation with a person I met in my first week and a half of school. While waiting for the elevator in the lobby of Gelman, our library, I ran into a guy who I had class with freshman year. We actually got lunch once, which was my first time ever going to the GW Deli. Every time I pass the grassy spot next to the deli, I remember trying to sit in the grass with a white skirt and a sandwich that dripped mayonnaise left and right as I made a new friend. I think he ate something with meat it in–bacon, he said? Either way, I remember the simple pleasure of having someone to eat with at a time when no one knew anyone.
Four years later, after a three minute encounter in an elevator, I’m pretty sure he thinks I don’t actually remember that lunch–because it took me a minute to make the connection. I’m pretty sure he thinks I faked the whole thing. But it’s one of those random, displaced memories that I’ll probably have forever.
And I’ll definitely remember it now because it’s made me realize that it’s really quite awesome how, when things come to a close, the universe has a way of taking you back to the beginning, where it all started, so you can see how much you’ve grown.