Three years later, I still find myself feeling a little ridiculous.  My mind blamed my gut, the same gut that as a first-year responded do the loud yelling coming from the halls of Battell that had kept me from getting into bed. 

The source of the noise was a member of my first-year seminar, but no more than an acquaintance.  She was sporting a bright pink bikini, a ski helmet, goggles and the furriest boots I had seen since arriving at Midd as a first-year not more than two months before.  It had already been a non-descript week night, the kind where Chinese homework, 5:00 dinner and astronomy lab all mesh together to form one long block of time capable of sufficiently making me exhausted to the point where it was not hard to want to pass out for a good week.  So yes, it was my gut and not my common sense that responded to the voice instead of tuning it out.

I soon learned that she was from Southern California, San Diego specifically.  And the raucous she was causing was because although she had gone on a couple ski trips with her parents, if she hadn’t been able to trust what others had told her then she must have been in disbelief when snow started to fall from the sky. 

What made her decide to change into her present outfit is another story.  But what made me decide to join her, well that’s a question we can talk a little about.

In a short time I found myself running around outside in my new friends company, also dressed in similar attire that one might associate more with the beach than Battell Beach.  I suppose that even for me the first snow of the year was an exciting occasion.  As a first-year I was extremely excited to try out skiing for the first time in decent conditions and I had already heard about the type of place Middlebury turns into when the white stuff first arrives.  For lack of a better (and less cheesy) description, it was magical and liberating, and perhaps a little foolish, but for all the right reasons.

And it’s because of this that three years later I found myself running through McCardell Bicentennial Hall wearing very little clothing while announcing to others who are much more hard-working than I am that the first snow of the year had indeed arrived.  It’s the fourth and last time my friend Lizz and I will partake in the tradition and despite the fact that it may seem strange, while making a fool of myself I couldn’t help but feel pretty sentimental. 

There is no doubt in my mind that I am going to have an extremely difficult time saying goodbye to this place.  And perhaps the reason why I am stressing about it now is that everyone around me is applying for jobs, talking about next year and focusing primarily on something they call the “real world.” 

While this is good and all, I can’t help but focus on the present situation and how it is often the stroke of luck (and our ability to trust our gut reaction) that leads us to do great things.  Lizz and I have been incredibly close friends since and had I not decided to be a little crazy, who knows if we would even know each other.

But that’s what I love about Middlebury and how I am going to have such a hard time leaving.  It’s the nonsensical decisions we make and the lessons we learn from them.  It’s the opportunities we have to, in a sense, live a little.  It’s the wind whipping in your face as the first flakes fall around you.