Rivers of our vision

The deed is done, the enrollment deposit paid, the school sweatshirt purchased.  It is now “Facebook official”, and I’ve amassed a personal record of ‘likes’ for modifying the education status on my profile.  The knots that have been snarling up in my brain for the past two weeks are finally unraveling, and no more do I feel the urge to smash my head against a wall because there isn’t a school called Berkwesleytufts.  Miraculously, a dose of college-selecting sagacity shot through my veins on Easter Sunday, and before I could even consume my first chocolate bunny of the day, I had made my decision.

This fall, I am going to be a Jumbo at Tufts University, Class of 2015!

Did I see this coming?  Certainly not.  Did anyone see this coming?  Apparently my dad did.  Setting aside the fact that he has really only visited Tufts out of the three, he claims that this has been written in the stars for my whole life.  At dinner the night before I decided, he noticed that the Shabu-Shabu cooker on our table said “Jumbo” on its exterior– and he made quite a histrionic scene of pointing that out.  Yesterday he even went so far as to declare that since I’ve been practicing on a piano called a “Boston” since I was seven, it would only make sense if I went to a college in Boston.  (It’s true– on our piano you’ll see the word “Boston” in large, cursive, gold letters).  I’m not sure if I believe in superstitions or cosmic phenomena, but I may have to make an exception to the laws of science for this one.

*Title: “Wasn’t Born to Follow” by The Byrds


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