Anna-Catherine Kueng ~ Assistant Editor
Around this time last year, I was in what I like to call the “prime” of my high school years. I was a senior in high school with only three months to go before I would graduate. I had gotten into several colleges, and my main focus was deciding if I wanted to go to a small or big school (you can guess which one I chose). I was getting to park my car in the senior parking lot, I was doing well in my classes, and I was attending scholarship banquets nearly every week. All of my hard work was finally paying off and I was getting to bask in the glory of it.
Okay, so I may be slightly dramatic; in reality, there were still many days where I would get frustrated while doing my AP Chemistry homework and I often worried myself sick about what college I should attend, but overall my second semester was going great.
This time of year reminds me of when I attended UL’s open house and finally decided on where I wanted to spend the next four years. I went into it thinking I still wanted to go to Virginia Tech, but once I started talking to other Lynchburg students, I realized I wanted to be a Hornet. I also remember seeing Montgomery Hall and instantly falling in love with the brick walls, the surrounding trees, and the conveniently located chapel. Little did I know that I would one day be living in Mont.
A year ago, I had so much excitement and nervousness about my upcoming freshman year. Now those feelings have subsided and I am hearing about current seniors receiving the scholarships I once got, and experiencing the happiness of getting into their dream schools. While I am excited for them, I also cannot help but feel jealous because I remember when that used to be me.
My freshman year has exceeded my expectations in a lot of ways, but sometimes it sad to realize that it is going to be over in a few months. Sometimes, even memories from high school come flooding in and it is bittersweet to realize they are just that: memories.
Last week, I was in my Intro to Literature class and my professor brought up Beowulf. Just hearing that name reminded me of being back in my AP Literature class with my awesome teacher and classmates. That was one of the first times since starting college where it truly hit me that I am no longer a Tunstall Trojan.
Time never slows down, and some days, that is a great thing; however, other days make me want to yank the clock off the wall, scream at it, and beg it to stop. I know there is good in every season, but is it so wrong to sometimes miss the good from past seasons?