the buffer zone

I like to describe the period between graduating high school and entering college as the buffer zone — the sometimes uncomfortable but mostly confusing couple of months that exist as you prepare to launch into a new life. You may not be ready, but life does not wait.

You pack your stuff, leaving behind mementos; the first baseball bat your dad brought home for you, the science board that you ditched your friends on Halloween to make, and the 35 millimeter film pictures that have been collecting dust in your closet. Only taking what cannot be replaced by the local Target.

You wait at the gate, and your flight is delayed. You ask yourself if it’s a coincidence that your flight has been delayed three times, especially since you spent the hour-long ride to the airport regretting signing off on an education 2,000 miles away from home. You drift off in your emotions with the help of your significant others in the car.

You make it to campus, participate in the traditional orientation events. Your dad tells you to stay off your phone, talk to others, and have a blast — so that’s exactly what you do. During the day, you go to class and complete work. In the evenings, you attend club meetings, and then you meet up with a group of potential friends to roam the campus for night life activities.

Shortly after orientation, class starts even though you are still in summer mode. You do your readings, study all night, call home often — and more importantly, you wait for this new feeling, the one that adults describe as “growing up” to settle. But it never does. You go grocery shopping, internship and apartment searching, and you create a life for yourself. When you get sick, you call home and describe the symptoms to your mom before realizing that she can’t help you from 2,000 miles away. You’re alone, but you have everyone’s support. You feel alone, but you’re overwhelmed with support.