This past week I received my first graduate school acceptance letter, and I was subsequently hit by the realization that this will likely be my last year in this wonderfully bizarre town. I was always aware of this possibility in the back of my mind, but without substantial proof to back it up, I merely rested on the assumption that I would be in this town, well, forever. When your future is so devoid of any certainty, it’s easy to fill in the void with your present life and assume that every day will simply be a repeat of your current one. Now, imbued with the knowledge that my time in Gainesville is finite, I can feel the nostalgia creeping up on me as it colors my perspective of this town ever so slightly.
It’s not that all of a sudden I feel like weeping whenever I think of my semi-inevitable departure, as that would be taking this whole senior-year thing a bit too seriously. Instead, I’m merely a bit more aware of the transitory nature of my surroundings. When I first arrived in Gainesville back in 2013, every stately classroom, quaint coffee shop and grimy bar felt entirely new and permanent. They were all so radically different from the suburban strip malls I had grown up with, and I cherished the uncharted territory while simultaneously promising myself I would explore it all. Nearly three-and-a-half years later, there are still plenty of things I haven’t done and places I haven’t explored. But that doesn’t prevent me from thinking about the experiences I’ve had in this town and the buildings they’re intrinsically linked to.
Leonardo’s By The Slice will always make me think of my first week in Gainesville, when I was ushered around Sorority Row among an ambling horde of blondes in wedges and made my first undergraduate friend as I inhaled garlic knots. Driving by (now closed) The Jones, I laugh at how my friends and I were always amazed that there was never anyone at our former favorite restaurant, only to realize later on it had a horrendous track record of health code violations. The Backyard at Boca Fiesta will forever be associated with Monday night karaoke, drunken renditions of any and every David Bowie song and accidentally attending a women’s liberation rally my sophomore year.
There are so many experiences I know will stay in Gainesville whenever I end up leaving. I’ll miss going to Midtown, even though we all know it’s the worst, because of the disturbingly cheap gin and tonics and the knowledge that you will undeniably see everyone you don’t want to see (including but not limited to ex-boyfriends, teaching assistants and people from your hometown). I’ll miss hearing the distant tinkling of Hare Krishna bells from practically every corner of campus as I speed-walk to my next class. I’ll miss waking up on Saturday mornings to the sounds of the UF Fightin’ Gator Marching Band practicing on Norman Field and knowing that the chaos of gameday is waiting for me outside my door.
All of these meditations may seem a bit premature, considering it’s only October, but I know before I realize it I’ll blink and it’ll be May. Hell, I’m still convinced I was a bright-eyed freshman just a few weeks ago. But regardless, the point is that a lot of the experiences and places you take for granted in this town are undeniably fleeting, so perhaps we should cherish Gainesville whenever possible. Knowing how quickly this town can change, I have no doubt the Gainesville I know now will be replaced by something slightly different in no time at all.
Marisa Papenfuss is a UF English senior. Her column appears on Tuesdays.
