"It was like World War II, only worse."

As I perused the SIJ 2004 class website today, I felt this overwhelming sense of belonging. It's been almost two months since I threw my suitcases into the back of a cab, closing the doors to Dellenback Center for the last time. I was bitter at the time, angry that I'd gotten a B+ and that no one else was awake with me at 5 a.m. While I struggled alone to get that oversized suitcase, my carry-on and my laptop out the self-locking doors (I'd already turned in my key), I wasn't thinking about the amazing transformations I'd undergone over the past month. I wasn't thinking about my roommate who'd stayed up talking with me about love and life until 4 a.m. that day. I wasn't thinking about the city and the spell it had cast over me in a matter of weeks. I wasn't thinking about the chance of a lifetime I'd just had, and how I'd emerged triumphant.

Today, I thought about all of those things, the moments I'll never get back. While I'm ashamed of the blemish on my transcript and I'll probably never forgive TMatt for being a jerk, I was beyond blessed to have an entire month with 14 amazing journalism students who all care about the same things I do. How can I be bitter about such an experience?

In the next few weeks, we'll all be starting school and bartering our souls for campus-newspaper-staff-greatness. Though we've gone our separate ways, I feel eternally bound to each one of them. For four weeks in Washington, D.C., I was a part of something amazing. I think I'm still a part of it. I still belong.