“You’re going to miss this one day”

This is me and my mamma.

Whenever she does something slightly annoying but slightly endearing, my mom always follows it up with, “Kayla, you’re going to miss this one day.”

There have been many, many nights at home when I’m reading in bed and she bursts in the door, runs toward me and belly flops on the bed next to me. I always roll my eyes and try to keep reading, but I always know what’s coming next—“one day you’ll miss my belly flops.”

Basically, variations of “you’re going to miss this one day” have become excellent Mom excuses for whatever slightly annoying but slightly endearing things she’s doing. “One day you’ll miss me poking your leg,” “one day you’ll miss me making my weird stew surprises,” “one day you’ll miss me not being able to remember what you told me 10 minutes ago,” etc.

I don’t want to be writing this blog right now because I would really like to be drinking a beer with my roommates on this fine Thursday night and if I can’t drink a beer I should be working on a major part of my thesis I need done by next week. But I am writing this, because class.

I’m also writing this because, in the spirit of my mom, I am going to miss this one day. I’m going to miss being a student and having little assignments to do at the end of a night and having professors who push me to blog and think about what I feel and what I believe and what I really think and not some sanitized version of any or all of the above.

“One day” will likely be a week after graduation this May or, at the latest, the start of fall semester. “One day” is rapidly approaching and it’s pretty daunting and intimidating and surreal. So, this is me writing a blog for a very interesting class in a great School of Media and Journalism at my dream university even though I’d much rather be drinking a beer because yes, I am absolutely going to miss this one day.