Four years later…

The term “precipice” must have been created for moments like these. Moments where people peer blurrily into the uncertain future and stare longingly at the comfort of what has already come to pass. So as this is just the occasion this word was destined to describe, I’ll discuss the precipice in the room.
My bags are packed, my landlord paid, my car, though heavily rusted by sailing the saline slush of Houghton, eagerly awaiting the journey ahead. I am leaving home once again. I’ve done this before, except home felt entirely different then. That was a home created for me. This is the home I’ve created.
You see, four years ago I found myself at a precipice. An acceptance letter basked in sunlight on my family’s dining room table, awaiting a signature. Four years ago, I took a labored breath as I packed my car for the first time as if I was a devilish vagabond, or perhaps George Bailey set out to “see the world!” Four years ago my 2010 Toyota Corolla pulled into Houghton’s city limits, unaware of the horrors that awaited its alloy frame. It was four years ago that I was at the precipice of college and every uncertainty one could possibly attribute to it.
It was four years ago that I met some of my closest friends. Four years ago I had some of the latest nights, deepest conversations, hardest challenges. I built my home through experiences, clubs, and communities. I built character through education, athletics, and adversity.
Peering back into the comfort of the past now, all I see is uncertainty. An uncertain past made certain through experience. Four years ago, it seems, I did not perch precariously on a precipice. I steeled myself against the steepest slopes – those are Agate Street and Dodge Street, for anyone new to Houghton – and I climbed.
Four years later, I graduated from MTU with a degree in engineering and roughly $2600 in rust damages to my 2010 Toyota Corolla. Four years later I shook hands and embraced my four-year family, my first friends four years ago. Four years later I waved goodbye to the home I built, eyes as misty as the morning Portage.
Four years later I peered blurrily into the uncertain future and smiled.
Now, I’m shaking off the rust. It’s time to see the world.