The Return of Southern Charm

I went home yesterday to take a breather from campus life and visit my old crew team at a regatta they had today; It was like a trip down memory lane- going back just one year but seeing everything from a completely different point of view. I was merely an observer.

I went out to dinner with mom when I first got off the metro, just the two of us. The topic of my dad never once came up, it surprised me to say the least, but in a good way. It was nice to just talk over school, catching up on family gossip about my cousins, and my mom rather embarrassingly printing out many of the fashion show photos I sent to her over authentic and tongue numbingly spicy Chinese food. We went to a restaurant we used to go to almost every two weeks, but neither of us had gone to since I started school in September.

I spent that night not doing anything – probably not a very good idea when I have two essays I need to write in the span of (now) one and a half days. I know, it’s bad of me. I shouldn’t be writing this either, but it relaxes me. When I woke up at 7:30 to my alarm, I immediately fell back asleep. I was supposed to go watch the Varsity 1st 8 race in their heat at 9ish but I was too tired. By the time I got out of bed, showered and left it was 9:45. I arrived at the reservoir to a familiar sights: trailers and slings of sleek racing shells, people decked out in their school colours, and the love it or hate it sight of spandex unis. Approaching my high school’s boat house, I was greeted by the sight of people I hadn’t seen in almost a year, many of who are now seniors, hearing back from colleges and trying to fight through a few more months of school before moving on to the next chapter of their lives.

I saw the familiar tent and table of regatta day food, which having not eaten breakfast before leaving, I greedily attacked. As I said hi and talked to more and more of my old teammates, I felt constantly distracted. Yeah, I missed the other guys, but I was looking for one guy in particular – Southern Charm. When I went to visit the team in the winter when they still had land practice, he was missing which saddened me. After asking someone if he was there, I walked into the boat house again.

At first I didn’t even recognize him, either he hadn’t grown taller or maybe I grew myself. His hair was longer and his skin was more tanned since I last saw him, but the longer I looked at him, the familiarity came back to me: his soft blue eyes, his slightly wavy brown hair and his goofy grin whenever he laughed. “JP! How are you!?” he shouted. We bro-bumped and talked for a while. He had been curled in a sleeping bag unnoticed when I first walked through. We talked about his senior year, how his classes were going, his college plans and the season so far. He told me the 1V placed first in their heat and were moving on to finals later on. He had heard back from all of his schools and was deciding between three. He still worked at the sub shop where I once visited him last summer. It was nice talking to him again; he was still as down to earth and happy as I remembered him. The whole time I couldn’t help remembering him writing “You were my first friend when I joined the crew team, I really appreciate and won’t forget that” in my yearbook before I left during our meeting.

Soon it was time for him to go race in the finals along with the rest of the guys and I made my way to the grand stands. The trail that winds along the coast of the reservoir hadn’t changed one bit – I reached one inlet where I used to always ponder why they hadn’t built a bridge to bypass it and to make things easier than having to walk an extra quarter mile, yet that bridge still, and probably will never exist. When I got to the grandstands it struck me again that this time I was just another observer. For two years, I was one of the people on the water, hearing the cheering from the shore in the final 250 meter sprint to the finish line, but now the roles reversed. When the 1st 8 came into view, it had begun to pour cold rain; they were fighting for second when in the last 15 strokes another boat pulled ahead and pushed us to third. It was a good race which left me nostalgic of the days when I was part of the team. I missed the feeling of simulated flying, the sound of the water rushing under me, the solid thunk of the oar when everyone feathered, and the lightness in my seat when I dropped the blade in for a stroke. They say once you do crew it’s impossible to get it out of your system, it’s in your blood; well, I found out that was true today.

When I got back to the boat house, they were moving the shell up the hill back to the boat house. I ran into SC and congratulated him for a good job and a good race. He complained of how it was probably the coldest, most uncomfortable race he had ever been in and how he couldn’t feel his hands as he laughed. His dad was on the hill and I left when he went to go talk with him. By then it was almost 1:30 and I had to get home. I said goodbye to the guys and saved SC for last. While the other guys said goodbye with a handshake which I offered to him as well, SC went in for a hug instead; it was cute. Southern Charm always had been more affectionate than the other guys, one of the reasons I thought he could have been something other than straight but was something I put behind since I graduated. I told him I’d probably go to some future regattas and would hopefully see him again. He just smiled again with that warm, goofy grin and we parted ways. I really do hope to see him again.

The sun was coming back out again when I left, strange when it was pouring and hailing just 45 minutes prior. The regatta would be going for a few more hours but I didn’t want my stay to be too long.

It’s scary to think just how fast time is moving. In a little more than a month I’ll be done with my first year of college. The year flew by too fast; there wasn’t nearly as much time as I wanted or needed to accomplish everything I wanted. I had made a master list of goals for the year back in August; I feel I got through less than half since then. Sure, I’ve met many new people and tried many new things, I but I still don’t think I’ve defined myself as who I want to be yet. I still feel the weight of trying to fit the mold others had created for me based on their few months of knowing me. That’s not who I truly am, and I don’t think they recognize that yet. I guess that’s why college is four years or more rather than one.


The Fray - Over My Head.  Another song from my youth

It’s Saturday night and that would normally mean it’s time to get out and have fun but tonight I’m a slave to my Ethics paper. Writing about Immanuel Kant isn’t something particularly enjoy to say the least but I made a new playlist to work to and help me make it through the night. Love you college, truly.

All the best,

JP