I write this from my living room table, the curtains in front of the balcony pulled back so that I can admire the view of the barren trees and bundled-up students, knowing that this sight won’t be mine to admire for much longer.
When I first set foot here four years ago, I knew nothing. Oh sure, I knew some things- like how to pass my classes and how to take care of myself- but in the grand scheme of things, it was basically nothing. There is more to life than doing the minimum to survive.
Those first few months, I walked down these streets with my eyes wide and innocence worn like a cloak. I was in awe of this moderately-sized city that was so different from the place of my birth. People everywhere, so many things to do, and endless possibilities- I wanted to soak it all in, and was more than eager to explore. There was something magical in the air every time I walked around campus, and more so when I ventured out into Danbury with my friends. It was like I could do anything and be anyone, and I couldn’t get enough. Still can’t, to be completely honest.
You taught me how to grow up. It was while living here that I learned how to stretch $20 so that it would last a week. Living on campus taught me how to properly clean and look after a small apartment, how to live with people that I haven’t known my entire life, and what it really took to provide for myself. It was in one of the surrounding towns that I held down my first job- as a cashier at a bagel shop- and learned not to let people walk all over me and to stand up for myself. I wasn’t some shy, naïve little girl anymore, and the day I realized this, it instilled a confidence in me that I will never be able to shake.
This town has been the backdrop to some of my greatest accomplishments and biggest failures. It has seen me ecstatic to the point of not being able to contain the smile on my face, laughing and dancing around a room because I was bursting with happiness. It has seen me at my lowest, the metaphorical bloodshed and tears draining me to the point where I could barely get myself to class. This town was always there in the background as a source of escapism and entertainment, playing the role of the very silent supporter.
In three months, I will pack up my boxes and leave this town. Not for good- I can almost guarantee the fact that I will be returning here. But it will be different. I will be a visitor. Someone who is ignorant to everything going on, someone who will no longer know the intimate details of this town. That saddens me, considering everything I have witnessed and experienced here. I’m not ready to say goodbye, but I know that the time has almost come. The next three months will be spent soaking everything up, just as I did when I was eighteen and had just arrived here. I don’t want to miss a thing.
When the time comes, I will still smile. Danbury may not be my hometown, but it has become a home in every sense of the word. I will carry that with me wherever I set my sights on next.
