Sunday, August 28, 2011

Going, going, gone.


Tomorrow, I'll wake up at five in the morning. By ten, I'll be in Manhattan. By four, less than twelve hours after waking up, I'll hug my dad goodbye. I'll watch him squiggle through Broadway's post-Irene traffic, headed for home. Without him, I'll be all alone, surrounded by girls identical to me. I'll be an ant in the anthill of Barnard College. Or maybe NYC is the anthill? I don't know what the metaphor is exactly, just that I'll be an ant. 




To my favorite teachers at West Side, to my classmates, to my debate competition, to my music teachers, to my family, to my neighbors, to my friends, to anyone who ever read this blog: if you ever come to New York, come say hi. I know a tiny bit of floor between two beds in a college dorm room that has your name on it. 





(Diane baked me an omgsheiseighteenandmovingaway cake. It was chocolate with marscapone coffee frosting and raspberry sauce, and it was the most amazing cake ever. Not to mention the fact that it followed my ideal meal: meatloaf with green beans and corn. Thank you, Diane!)

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