Way back in the summer days...

A sweltering hot summer day. Or daze perhaps. One that would take me back almost four years ago to the day.

It’s funny to notice what captures your memories of a certain place and time in your life. Maybe it was a perfume, a bouquet of flowers, some comfy clothes, or a certain favorite food. It’s something so ingrained to one of your five senses, you can almost revisit that time and place exactly. The buildings may have gone, the people vanished, and the items of your cherish memories are dust; all that is left are your memories.

My first brush with college happened a few years before coming to BU. In fact, it was in University of Miami, in a summer program for high school kids. I was among the youngest of the students and participated in the Pre-Med track focusing on infectious diseases.

For whatever reasons unbeknownst to me, I remember that summer almost as vividly as if I were living in it now.

I remembered the plumeria scented body spray I used everyday before classes. My awful introduction to “shower shoes.” The achingly long walks in the sun, across the palm tree laden campus to the dining hall, then the mad dash that my friends and I would make to our classes. The brick walkways in front of our bookstore that served as soccer fields. The pilgrimages to the rec center for a swimming pool. The daily commute of our study week on the Miami Metro to Jackson Memorial Hospital. The smell of the hospital cafeteria, with sounds of my group pleading with our R.A. to let us go in to get Carvel ice cream. The garden that shaded half of our building’s entrance. The run back to the Metro station to avoid the rain and the 5 o’clock traffic. Regrouping with friends from other programs in the lounges, until the R.A. came by and reminded us we had to be on the girl’s floor before curfew. Lights out at 12…

It’s ironic because I can’t tell you what I had for lunch a few days ago, yet I can still navigate that campus like it was just yesterday, when I snuck out of the dorm to take pictures of the fountains on campus. It was forbidden, you see, because there was an actual gator in the main lake on campus. We named after one of our R.A.’s.

I remember some pretty great times: My first baseball game, my first dive off a diving board, snorkeling in Biscayne Bay, playing games all through the 4th of July, seeing one of the sequels of “Pirates of the Caribbean” on opening night, soccer after the rain, watching the France against Italy World Cup game soaked after leaving a pool party early. But the bitter moments have stayed with me as well: my first roommate dispute, surviving the most awkward of sex ed classes, living outside of my family’s household for the first time, visiting a HIV clinic in one of the poorest neighborhoods in America to get a lecture on the disease, seeing a mother bouncing a baby on her lap, waiting in that same clinic to get tested.

But for all the low and high points, possibly the reason why this period in my life sticks out so vividly is the people I shared this time with. Each were characters in their own right. I can remember late night chats on my friend’s bed over the recent roommate drama. Serious political discussions with another. My one friend’s impeccable impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Another friend’s wacky outfits, another’s soft-spoken manner. Which two were practically sisters, which two were always ready to order take-out. A friend’s certain pose, a friend’s certain prose. We were a group of international kids, united by our youthful optimism for our future, college. Different as we were, we worked together. We stuck up for each other, helped each other study, and yes, pitched in to make the $15 dollar minimum to get Chinese food delivered.

Why the sudden rush of memories over the holiday weekend? Not too long ago, I received a text from a friend congratulating me on the anniversary of the best summer ever. A few days later, he visited me, far from the shores of Miami Beach on one of the weekends we had shared once before-four years ago. We talked about the past like it was yesterday, however noting how strange it felt to say it’s been four years since. Back then, it seemed like it would take us forever to get into college, and many of us agreed that we would all go to University of Miami-together. Four years later, and possibly less than a quarter of us have stayed in Miami. Some of us have changed majors, gone through tough times, and switched schools, but we still treasure that summer.

Earlier this year, I hunted down one of the photos off of my MySpace page from that summer. I could only find one left. A .gif file I had painted a border on to fancy it up. Remnants of my 16-year-old self that struggled with her individuality and sought to keep the memories of her independent days alive through to college. It was a photo of my Pre-Med group, smiling in the seats of our main lecture hall. We had scheduled our own spirit day (pajama day), made our own events, and of course, always had dinner together.

I don’t know if that sort of closeness has been repeated in my life. I won’t know that until those moments have ended. Slowly, but surely, life took its toll on our friendships. Distance and difficulties had taken its place in lieu of emails and text messages. My phone died and with it, most of my contacts a few months before I graduated high school. I made the switch from MySpace to Facebook permanently in my junior year. A few friends made the jump too, and I relocated them once more. However for the exception of the friend who visited me, I have probably only talked to one other person from our group this year. That’s it.

But it’s not so sad, far from it. I still have the summer memories of my time with them. I cried the day my parents came to pick me up; I don’t think I could have been more upset to see them. We all cried that day. Teary good byes, and heartfelt hugs before the long road trips and air trips ahead. None of us were quite sure when we would see each other, and with some of us in other countries, there was no guarantee a reunion could ever happen. To this day, we’re scattered about in different colleges, miles and time zones away. But, you know, it just takes a random text, a walk past the store I bought my plumeria perfume, or a chat with an old friend to remind me of simpler times. Back when the biggest decisions of my life was deciding where to go to college and where should we all go to celebrate our last night together.

Thanks for those summer memories.

Our "graduation", Class of '06.

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