Freshman Fears, Senior Year.

Today is July 1st.  Not a date I expected to have mixed feelings about but, well, there you have it. My summer is, basically, halfway through.  I know many families with kids still in elementary and even high school are just beginning their summers, but for me I was done back in May and return at the beginning of September.  So the first of July marks the halfway point.

Part of me is very pleased with that thought - woo hoo!  Almost time to go back to school, to awesome roommates and a beautiful apartment and a super productive, overwhelmingly busy schedule.  Almost time for dance and dance studios and stages everywhere you look.   Almost time for regular voice lessons and half way to the Sunday I can sit in what has become "my" church after three years of attendance.

But part of me is sad, too.  Sad because I know the place I'm so excited to return to - the place I love so well - is just not going to be the same place any more. My new roommates are good friends, talented people, loyal, clever, beautiful, wonderful.  But they aren't Roomie.  And the apartment won't be the one we shared.  The thoughts I have of my school almost always include Marissa Jenna Sam Meg and Julia and my boys - my crazy, wild, silly, sweet boys who are actually older than me and graduated and won't be there any more for watching the game or The Scottish Play or convincing me tonight is as good a night as any to put down the homework and let my hair down.

And then there is the work itself. So much of it.  Just so, so much of it.  Including my voice lesson, I am taking 23 credits this semester alone.  Twenty-three credits. That's an entire year's worth of classes all jammed into a semester. . . plus my Independent Study.  And Senior Performance.  Those are at least two performances I'm guaranteed to be involved in, never mind Cabaret, Oklahoma!, and any of the other club-sponsored shows.  Or any clubs - Sisterhood, Vocal Conviction. . . plus my mandatory auditions as a Senior for dance companies.  And the "mock" auditions with professionals from a NYC Agency, who actually hire people every year (!!!).  And where in there will I find the time to *work*?  And if I don't work, how will I eat?  Or pay my cell phone bill, or for internet, or dancewear (which I haven't replaced/updated/bought since the summer before freshman year).

In a weird way, it feels again like the summer before Freshman year.  Though I do in fact know and love (really and truly and very much) people at school, without my seniors around me it feels almost as though I'll be around strangers again.  Will I be ok?  Will I have enough time to work?  Will I have enough food? Will the classes be too much for me?  How will I keep my grades up?  I'm scared.

I'm scared.

I'm scared.

There.  I said it. I admitted it. Something I've barely even allowed to whisper in the back of my mind but has wiggled in my belly anyway.  See, I'm almost never scared.  I'm *ready* or I'm *excited* or *prepared* or always *confident.*  I smile and say "I think I can handle it, no worries," and set off with a laugh for the impossible.  For the adventure.  And really, that part of me is more than there still - ready, excited, sure.  But part of me is a little frightened.  Daunted by how big the obstacles appear.  Nervous about whats on the other side.  Sad to have lost my favorite hands to hold along the way - even if only for a little while.

And so, my summer is halfway done.  I have another two months to work as hard as I can and save money to survive on, to prepare and organize my life.  To take a deep breath, put the smile on and say "I think I can handle it," to the impossible.

Here's to the adventure.  Let's set off laughing, shall we?