The best of the vanished marvels have gathered inside your door

Last week, I found myself lounging in my rapidly-emptying bedroom in my apartment, idly checking Facebook while the clock ate away the hours of my last full day in Bloomington-Normal. In the months, weeks, and days preceding this particular afternoon, I failed to feel much in the way of raw, nostalgic emotion about my permanent departure from campus, aside from a vague, ambivalent sadness--not a serious sense of loss, but more like the Nerf-gun twinge you feel when you find out that your favorite show has been canceled.

And so it was with somewhat of an emotional jolt that I was abruptly struck by the realization that I was never going to see IWU again--not through the casual, familiar eyes of a student, anyway. It suddenly seemed extremely important that I go for one, last walk around the campus grounds. A definitive, final stroll that would allow me to generate for myself a sense of existential closure with the university (you know, or something like that). It was a beautiful day for a walk, at any rate. Sixty-seven degrees. Sunny. Blooming. The kind of weather through which you halfway expect to hear the distant singing of tower-locked Disney princesses.

I stepped out of my apartment and set out towards the library, completely determined to walk slowly and stay absolutely focused on the memorializing task at hand. This kind of abrupt and feverish wave of dramatic emotionalism tends to hit me whenever I feel like I'm closing in on the end of a more-major-than-usual part of my life, so I entered into this venture mentally prepared. In fact, I even had a ready-made "savor the moment" procedure for such occasions: as I walked by the various campus sites, I'd simultaneously try to capture the present aesthetic moment while also invoking memories I'd previously made at those places, thereby making the experience as vivid and memorable as possible. I might be the sappiest sap of all the saps, but at least I'd be a sap with a firm and detailed memory base.

I looked up at Ames, remembering that, one or two years back, a friend and I had decided that it looked like a Transformer. At night, all aglow, it looked completely capable of rising up out of the ground and battling the State Farm building.

Walking down the sidewalk toward the front of the library, beaches of well-tended grass flowing by me on either side, I glanced to my right and caught a view of President Wilson's brick home. I never did ask if any of my friends went to that wine and beer reception at the President's house, I thought. Garrett said he was planning on it. I wonder if President Wilson prefers wine or beer. He seems like more of a beer guy. Or maybe I just assume that any guy who isn't Kelsey Grammar is a beer guy. I guess there are beers that are more "respectable" beers. You can be a snob about anything if you try hard enough. Where did--

Wait, now. Focus. By the time I snapped out of this rambling train of thought, I'd already passed Ames and was closing in on Presser. I paused and looked behind me, trying to play a quick game of catch-up on the transcendental experience I'd planned. Trees. Flowers. Windows. Minor Meyers' endearing but unnerving statue. I guess I'll just move on. Stay focused this time, you're trying to make memories.

Shaw. What an ugly building. Well, not ugly I guess, just stumpy. Definitely less pretty than most of the other buildings, at least. Why is taking the GRE Literature exam the first thing I think of when I look at Shaw? Probably because I took it on a nice day like today. I'd almost forgotten about taking that test, which is crazy considering that preparing for it was, like, all I did last summer. Man, I studied hard. I wonder if grad schools will really care about those scores. When should I start applying? I wonder when the applications will be released. Are they already released? I should look that up when I get home, it wouldn't hurt to get an early start...

Damnit, not again. I was already at CLA. Distracted and blinded by my thoughts, my pace had quickened to its normal speed and I'd blown by Holmes and Sheean. Oh well, it's not like I had any deep, meaningful associations with either of those buildings anyway.

Why was this so hard? After cycling through this pattern of distraction one or two more times I eventually reached Hansen. I chatted with Steph at Hattie's, got a large coffee, and sat for a moment outside the front doors, warming my hands through the thin cardboard cup. Looking around, watching the sun glisten through the branches of the birch tress, making animated spotted patterns on the ground, I thought about how very pretty everything was at that moment. But then again, I'd always thought IWU's campus was beautiful. I'd spent accumulated hours at dozens of various places on campus over the years, pausing and sitting, usually with coffee, thinking about how very pretty it all was and, usually, how pleased I was to be there.

The realization struck me that this, of course, was the reason that my grand, existential memory-making endeavor was a crash-and-burn failure. It was ridiculous for me to think that I could simply stroll through campus, paying attention to all the little sights and sounds as if they were new or inordinately interesting. I'd spent four whole years training my brain to consider IWU a baseline, a familiarity, an always-and-reliable given. Like a home or an occasionally irritating family member, IWU's campus was something to be unconsciously loved, cognizantly dismissed. Even if my active consciousness was getting all moony-eyed nostalgic over my imminent departure, it didn't change my automatic habits and sensibilities. The more default part of my brain had yet to come to terms with the new reality. Why should I pay attention to all this? it seemed to be saying. We'll be seeing it again tomorrow.

Resigned, I picked myself up from the Hansen steps, called my sister, and roamed semi-distractedly through the remainder of my tour before heading back to my apartment to finish the last of my packing.

[Note to my Brain: I have to admit, I never knew you'd be so slow on the uptake. I'll probably be in Evanston when you catch up. It's really a very pretty place, too, so I hope you'll take to the transition kindly.]