I am someone who has always thrived on routine. Over the summer, my friend Grace asked me what I was going to do once I no longer had the crutch of regular classes after graduation. Nine months ago, I laughed it off, but now I’m forced to confront this reality head-on. As I’ve been thinking about graduation these past few weeks, I’ve begun the process of mourning the routines I’ve built for myself at Fordham. I realized that some of my favorite moments of college are the mundane, minute habits I’ve slipped into the still moments of my busy weeks. While pondering what I should write about for my last article ever (ouch!), on the topic of appreciating the mundane, I am going to write about sitting outside.
While there are many scary aspects that come along with graduating from college, one of the most daunting to me is that I will have limited time outdoors once I start working full-time. As I’m writing this, I am sitting on Edwards Parade at 3 p.m. on a Monday. I’ve probably sat on every bench on campus at least once, typically either working on a reading for class, eating a meal or calling my mom or sister. When I was asked about my hobbies during a job interview, I described this as “benching.” Perhaps sharing this passion was a bit premature because I did not make it to the second round of interviews, but that’s besides the point.
Sometimes I just sit, which is also nice. My friend Frances caught me doing this on Keating steps the other week and she asked me if I was on the phone with someone; nope, I was just sitting and staring aimlessly. Often, there’s a retired Jesuit from Ciszek Hall sitting nearby doing the same thing — I think he’s onto something. Spring is my favorite season at Fordham, prime benching time, and I know it’s officially arrived when the groundskeepers plant flowers around the Dealy Hall fountain. The past four years, I’ve been sitting on a bench watching it happen.
One of my absolute favorite things about sitting outside on campus is that I almost always find a friend — one of my favorite parts of attending a small school. I was actually sitting alongside Eddies earlier this week, admiring the plethora of people sitting on the lawn, when I ran into Evan, a friend and former editorial director of The Ram. With some time to spare, we took the time to catch up and, unavoidably, the topic of graduation came up. After I told Evan how scared I was to leave Fordham, he surprised me by telling me that he’s excited for the change, for something different. He told me that he feels too old to be on campus and, as I looked around, I realized that I didn’t recognize any of the underclassmen. I’ve grown into Fordham over the past few years and changed in ways I would’ve never expected when I was 18, and maybe now I’ve outgrown it. The likelihood of being uncomfortable and having opportunities to challenge myself in new ways is pretty exciting, I suppose. For the first time, I felt a sense of security in the uncertainty. Thanks, Evan.
Back in November, I wrote that the prospect of graduating felt like staring into a foggy abyss. I’m not going to disillusion myself and say that I feel any differently now, but rather, I will say that I have leaned into that feeling. As I enter what may just be the hardest, most tumultuous years of my life, I feel prepared to carry with me everything I’ve adopted at Fordham: deep friendships, steady confidence in myself and the ability to lead and make hard decisions. Most importantly, I am ready to carry the stillness I practice here — the pauses between the chaos, my mundane habits which have grounded me over the past four years and my ability to recognize purpose in the quiet. And wherever I end up, I just hope there’s a good bench nearby.
