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The Key
Beth Abbott
 Was I in a daze that day? Why can’t I remember packing my car? I can remember who was helping me, but I
can’t remember doing anything worthwhile.
I don’t remember the mountains or the trees during the drive up. This day, this moment, it was only two
years ago, it should be clear in my mind.
Growing up, I always pictured university as a
wonderful place that I could not wait to go to. So, when I got accepted to Plymouth I nearly fell over with
joy. I was excited to go, and to
leave the nest. But, at the same
time, I was scared of the transition.
I was scared of the unknown. I
was just a naive kid who was not ready to become an independent adult in one
day. I can’t remember what I saw, only how I felt as I
walked into Grafton Hall for the first time.
People stood everywhere, bright-eyed, confident with their big
welcoming smiles. They shake my hand
acting like they have known me for years. “Nice to meet you Beth!, Nice to
meet you!” they say over and over.
It’s obvious that’s been recited, I think. This has got to be the strangest and most overwhelming five
minutes of my life. I am pointed and
told to go to a room by some girl who acts like my best friend. I get in line not knowing why I really
have to. I walk along the edge of a
never-ending desk just to give strangers my social security number. And so, they hand me The Key. The Key that I had hoped for, for so
long. The Key that I worked my ass
off to get. And she just tosses it
over to me like it’s an insignificant number. Just another key to give out, she must think. My heart sinks. It takes all my strength just to hold on to the piece of
tarnished metal. I wonder how many
hands this Key has fallen into? I
wonder what they were thinking when they first held it? I feel like a slave being forced and hurried to
gather up all the things I have ever known, all my personal possessions. All the things that mean something to
me. My heart pounds faster as I climb
higher and higher up the stairs to my independence. I notice The Key starts to get slippery, but some how my grip
does not let it fall. When I open the
old squeaky door to my floor, I notice there’s a welcoming bulletin
board. I later take a picture of it. I find my room and notice that my roommate
is already in it with her family. I
walk in and say hi. I sigh thinking
this shit hole will be my home for the next nine months of my life. I am still in a sense of shock and
sadness. Surrounded by boxes and suitcases, I stand in the
elevator to go down from floor five.
Another family is with us.
Being in an enclosed space with people you know nothing about can be
so awkward. I feel forced to say
something. I look over, smile at the
strangers, and say “hi”. My dad makes
jokes and says embarrassing things to try and act cool. Sometimes he tries too hard. I slowly gather the last of the things from my
car, and watch my parents head inside without me. As I walk into Grafton, I feel like I’m being pulled out. But, I’m in the elevator again. This time, I’m alone. I look over at the emergency stop button,
then down at the old dirty floor. I
suddenly think of my room, and my big comfortable bed. I smell dinner cooking. I see the autumn leaves and the mountains
on my drive up. I suddenly catch
myself daydreaming and look up at the numbers – only at 3. I can’t believe this step, this gigantic
leap I’m making. Is this really
happening? Is this a choice I can
handle? Back to reality, Beth. It’s too late. I am here now, and there’s no going back. My stomach churns. The elevator stops, I get out. I slowly walk into my new room. Looking around, I try not to look at my
parents. I don’t want to cry because
that will make this harder than it really is. God damn-it, just say bye and it will be over. Everybody is going through this right
now. I am not alone. This is easy. A breeze. But, my voice
is shaky. I can’t control it. I snap a quick picture, then distantly say
my goodbyes and hug the people who have watched me grow. I don’t remember what they said when they turned
around and left. I don’t remember
their faces. I just don’t remember
what I saw. But, I remember that I
felt alone and scared. Now, looking
back, I stare at the picture of that moment.
They didn’t look sad. I did. To make it worse, I have to take a writing test
next. I walk into a room full of
scared kids in a daze like my own. I
have to write down my feelings about why I want to become a teacher. Again, insignificance is staring up at me
in the face. This time it’s not
metal, it’s paper. Just a lonely,
blank, white-lined piece of insignificance.
How am I supposed to make meaning with this? How can I make meaning on the spot? I am hesitant, not to mention the fact that it is about 80
degrees in this room. I can’t
breathe. I can’t write under this
fucking pressure! This god-damn shit! I haven’t even un-packed yet! I have flash backs of my high school
writing classes. It’s not like that’s
going to help. I can’t bull-shit
this. I feel like I am being
watched. Like something’s wrong with
the first sentence I attempt to write.
My paragraphs have no structure.
I have no fucking structure. I
can’t think at a time like this. I
don’t want to believe that I am all alone in this big place. I quickly finish up my essay, hoping that
I did alright. Once back in my room, I couldn’t take it any
more. This is only my second time
visiting this place, this trap! It’s
just too much for me to handle! I
want my reality back. I want the
friends I left behind. I want the
people who love me, there by my side.
So, I’m going to leave. I’m
going to leave without telling anyone.
I don’t remember the mountains or the trees during my drive back. And as I get closer to home, I watch as
The Key dangles from my car’s ignition.
It is so unbelievably distracting!
It’s all alone. I remember home and how it felt when I walked in
the same day I left. My parents look
at me with disappointment glistening from their eyes. I am not sure exactly what to say- they
are not expecting me back home. I
slowly walk up the stairs as I shove The Key in my pocket. I look over at their surprised faces. “I can’t take it!
I just HAD to come back!” I
mutter in a frustrated tone. I wait
for them to say something else - something to fill the awkward silence. “Beth, you haven’t even given university a chance!”
exclaimed my mother. “I’m not going back. It’s too much. You
don’t understand what I’m going through!
I’m so scared.” I cry to them
all night. I want to give up my hopes
and dreams because I feel this way. I
tell them that I never want to go back to the place I thought would be
wonderful. I am lost. I am confused. But, deep down I know that all I needed is the feeling of
security one last time. One last
night in my house and a talk with my parents is what I needed to make me
realize my destiny. I had convinced
myself to not give up. So, that morning I said goodbye again, and I drove. And I remember the majestic mountains, and I remember the way the trees gently swayed with the wind. When I reach Plymouth and look up at Grafton, “my temporary home”, I smile as I take out The Key. I unlock the door and push it with all my might, and I feel a sudden rush from inside. I feel like a new person. I feel comfort and security from this 7-story building. In the elevator, I watch as The Key gently swings from my new Plymouth holder. It’s then that I realize, I have made it. December 17, 2002 EN270.02 Peterson Non-fiction Reposted 01/03/02 |
