Driving down Walnut Avenue — near Syracuse University’s main campus — for the first time since graduation sparked a feeling I wasn’t expecting.
This was where I lived during my last two years of school, where my closest friends and I built a community, a routine, and made some of our fondest memories.
And here I was, a mere six months later, back in town, getting ready to celebrate my first alumni weekend.
When my friends arrived, they said they felt it too — a mix of nostalgia and subtle discomfort. It was the realization that time moves forward here, even without us.
I was worried I’d never be as happy as I was in college
The pure stability and happiness of my life in college is something I don’t think will ever be recreated.
When will I ever be able to attend a late-morning hot yoga class on a weekday? Or have a constant partner for grocery shopping who just so happens to be my roommate and best friend?
College was exactly what my parents said it would be — a four-year-long summer camp with decreased responsibilities and no 9-to-5.
So, before my senior year had even started, I was worried about postgrad life. I’d heard the warnings that life after college can eventually be fulfilling, but the void created by leaving a tight-knit campus bubble is one that no job title or move can fully fill.
And it’s true — adjusting is hard.
Moments where I’d have taken a quick walk to my friend’s house down the street for advice became texts and calls to find a time when we were both available.
The validation I’d feel from a roommate who would listen to my thoughts at any hour was replaced by the silent hum of my dad’s computer monitors in his office.
So, I kept myself busy: I listened to Mel Robbins’ take on your early 20s, picked up side gigs, and became content with a life that didn’t revolve around an August move-in date.
By the time alumni weekend rolled around, I was both nervous and excited to return to the place where I thought my happiness had peaked.
Going back to my college campus felt comforting and clarifying
Londyn Grieve
Being on campus again was surreal. It was like nothing had changed.
I was surrounded by the same restaurants, bars, activities, and faces that had defined my college experience, and it was scary how similar it all felt to a normal weekend in my life just months ago.
On a visit to one of our favorite diners on Saturday morning, all my friends and I ordered three drinks each because we couldn’t decide between coffee, juice, or soda — just like we used to. Then, during our trip to the bar that night, we ran into the one person we’d all joked about seeing.
The difference this time, though, was me. I wasn’t the same person anymore.
I used to rely on my identity as a Syracuse University student, a journalism major, an extroverted person, and a friendly classmate to feel secure in myself — and I worried who I’d be without it.
But as I walked around campus, I realized the school didn’t feel like home anymore. The people did.
I’m moving on and taking my relationships with me
I’m not sure what I expected from my first alumni weekend. But I do know that once I left, I felt more sure than ever that the best chapters — even a seemingly perfect four years of undergrad — must come to an end, and I’m no longer romanticizing that part of my life.
I’ve moved on, and I’ve realized that the confidence I built and the relationships I formed are what have stayed with me.
The friendships I fostered in college have only deepened over time as we all navigate individual struggles and discomforts, and for that, I’m grateful.
It turns out the best parts of college weren’t tied to the campus at all. And I know that because I got to bring them with me.
