Drown Tears In Peaceful Place
Originally printed in the Quaker Campus 3/23/16
It’s been a rough day. Your “wonderful” lover just broke up with you for some childish reason. The paper you worked so hard on for your Shakespeare class is bleeding and earned a C. A passerby just hit the trunk of your 2006 Camry on the “peaceful” streets of Whittier. Not to mention finals are coming up. In your backpack are at least three encyclopedia-sized books, your silver Macbook and a series of multicolored study guides. You choke back your emotions like a three-day old cookie from The Spot and go about your day on campus.
The weight of your Jansport is nothing compared to how heavy your chest feels. It’s a miracle you even made it down the Founder’s Path without falling or twisting your ankle. Classes are winding down for the day, and people start lining up against the rails next to the Campus Inn for dinner. You look around the courtyard to find a friend, any friend. You just want to get some things off your chest.
But, alas, there’s no one around that you know. Pulling a piece of hair behind your ear, you make your way down onto the campus courtyard and walk to your mailbox. Before you start fiddling with the lock, you peep into your own box noticing there’s nothing but junk mail. No letters from home. Suddenly you feel worse, more alone and grief stricken than ever.
I gotta get out of here, you tell yourself as you walk into the hallway next to the mailroom and past the Quaker Campus office and K-Poets headquarters. You turn as if you might go into Club 88, but instead head towards the bathroom. The door to the bathroom is open wide, like the arms of a parent who always knows what’s wrong. It’s empty, as you expected, and the dim lighting invites you in. It’s always quiet in here. Suddenly, the embarrassment fades away.
You run inside and toss your backpack under the sinks. Rushing into the handicap stall, tears run down your cheeks. At last, you let it go. You sit for minutes on the floor, sniffling and crying to your heart’s content. An image of Moaning Myrtle, the weeping ghost that haunts Hogwarts’ bathrooms in Harry Potter flashes into your mind and you start to laugh. The well has run dry.
You stand up, open the stall and stand over the sinks. Splashing your face with cold water, you feel refreshed and emotionally recharged. Just as you cross the doorway, another person runs in with her own problems to throw away. As you walk down the hallway back to the courtyard, the spring returns to your step. Your stomach starts growling from hunger. The door opens and cool air hits you. You take a deep breath and exhale. Someone calls out from above. It’s your friends waiting for you to have dinner with them.
“Why are your eyes so red?”
“Allergies, don’t worry about it. Let’s eat! It’s chicken parm day.”
You laugh and realize that tomorrow’s a new day and Whittier College still feels like your second home.
One you’ll come back to quite often.
