Red Foxes

I was uncertain. It became a torturous drive, miles and miles from the city with trees as far as the eye could see. From what I could tell, it was essentially Maine transported into upstate New York. It was the opposite of where I originally thought I wanted to be. The twisting, treacherous roads led to what seems like directly into the side of a mountain. Even the roads in downtown were twisted and complex. I couldn’t begin to pronounce Poughkeepsie. I had never heard of Marist, and the prospect of being a Red Fox seemed underwhelming. It was certainly not my first choice, but my mom pushed me to at least tour. Give it a chance. See different schools. To be brutally honest, I just wanted to go home.

I slowly rolled through the parking lot, hunting for a spot to park. After ten long minutes of searching, and fifteen longer minutes of walking to the admissions building, we signed in to a sickly sweet, smiley volunteer college student. Receiving a hefty packet and a small, flashy red stress ball, we waited in the entrance with dozens of other families, my competition all consulting their pamphlets. Finally ushered into a cramped presentation room full to the brim, we all suffered through the same information session everyone has at every college in the summer. Recommended SAT/ACT scores, tuition, study abroad options. Admission dates, extracurriculars, campus life. Despite all of the similarities between the topics, something felt strangely different and new. I didn’t comprehend this distinction until later.

The transition from cool air conditioning to suffocating heat when we opened the double-doors was shocking. Eighty-two degrees with high humidity on the Hudson river is not the best condition for a whole-campus tour. Even though it was painful in the beginning, eventually, after walking around the campus, I did not care. The enormous quad overlooking the river with perfectly trimmed, impeccable green grass took my attention. The buildings evenly scattered were both modern and still had their own character. The illustrious Red Fox was painted in the middle of every field and on every telephone pole was They say that when you find the place you want to be you “just know”. It’s indescribable. I could picture myself in the chemistry lab, in the dorms, and everywhere inbetween. Immediately I felt at home: home in the sprawling campus, home in the small, college town feel I grew up in. The more we toured, the more of the campus we saw, even the small, insignificant details I learned about the school made me fall in love with it. These moments leading up to when we left, in that fifteen minute walk back to the car, I realized high school, while not over, was coming to a close. I thought of the friends and teachers whom I won’t see everyday after this year and the next. Soon I was not going to be a Lumberjack anymore.

I couldn’t stay at Hebron forever, and I knew what I wanted to be when I left my home of seven years. I wanted to be a Red Fox no matter how underwhelming.

And the summer was over.