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 Ross was impressed with my old college, although maybe not for the right reasons. When he asked why the school has a statue of a griffin and I told him its because that's the school mascot - the Westminster Griffins - his response was, "wow, babe, you never told me you were a gryffindor!!"
"No, I went to Westminster College, not Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. It's Westminster Griffins, not gryffindors."
"Eh, same thing," Ross said, while snapping photos. "At least you know what house you'd be in at Hogwarts." I thought about explaining that I'd gotten into college via my SAT scores, not a magical sorting hat, but figured why argue. I say griffin, he says gryffindor - either way its a damn cool mascot and fitting for the college. Because you know how fierce private liberal arts colleges are.
Ah, being back at Westminster again for the first time in years. The campus was deserted, what with it being summer break, but that was fitting for the the surprising emotions I experienced while there today.
I always considered the time I spent at Westminster as one of the best times of my life and I was heartbroken when I had to leave (due to financial problems, I wasn't able to go a full 4 years there and had to switch to a public university). At Westminster, I'd been an A student, in honor society, on the soccer team, had a ton of friends, and was happy for the first time in my life and thus my depature from that little utopia was hard to take. And, par to course, the passage of time only served to intensify the tint of the rose coloured glasses I viewed those memories with and, as a result, I fell into the habit of associating Westminster with a happiness that I'd lost for good. "That was the best time of my life," I'd wistfully tell people, as though happiness had since been banished from life, never to be regained.
But as I walked the empty campus today, it wasn't the joyful reunion I'd imagined it would be. I saw my old dorm, the student center, and the beautiful old buildings my classes were in, but seeing them again, after all this time, was more like touring a morgue. My life was once there, but its not anymore. That goofy 18 year old I once was has grown up (at least a little) and moved on and, this is the real kicker, I realized that this life I have now and who I've become is actually a hell of a lot better than anything in my past. Yes, Westminster was great and a powerful influence on me, but the time I spent there, running around drunk and studying Plato (yes, at the same time) just don't compare to the gifts I have in life now. Going back forced me to take off the rose coloured glasses with which I viewed the past and, in so doing, I discovered the only thing those glasses were doing was marring my vision.
It turns out that my life now is far better than anything the past contains, and that's what going back allowed me to discover. I thought I was going back to reminisce and revel in the good old days, but today's visit was instead an act of letting go and, much to my surprise, I was ready to be free. It's funny how that happens, how sometimes you can get so caught up in the past that you fail to realize how good the present is, but that mistake has now been rectified with a healthy dose of persepctive. That's not to say that I don't still look back fondly on Westminster, those will always be special memories, but now I can look back with the healthy attitude of, 'yes, it was great, but it was just a short stop on the path to a better life.'
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