Whenever the roommates are reunited, I like to think of it as something of a Glorious Reunion.

There’s something to be said about college friends and the bubbling-over of memories that come with each reunion. This one was particularly special for me, since it introduced three of my closest to my to-be-for-life significant other.

Not much of what we did was particularly out of the norm, aside from gorging ourselves with delicious food and postponing any diet “one more week.” We toured around Charleston, braved the overcast skies and did what we could to savor the weekend together – a weekend that went much too fast. 

All nostalgia aside, I do think it was a marvelous gathering. Jamey and I prepped Friday night with our homemade sangria (recipe to follow – don’t you worry!), made multiple beach attempts until we reached sunburned success, and taught each other new games Sunday evening with (isn’t it obvious?) a smoked pork butt. I somehow managed to arrive here without hardly any pictures, but hopefully some of the ladies will offer a guest post that will share with you literally and visually the rest of our weekend activities. I always like to think that a lack of photos means I’m having too much fun, which is probably the case since we’re too sweaty and hot to be in picture mode. We are the Facebook generation, after all.

I’m working hard to not be so sentimental this go-round, but it is mighty hard to drop off these friends and the man at the airport all in one trip. (I already reverted to College Claire earlier yesterday evening with a post-dinner power nap that lasted until about 9 p.m. All I needed after that was a 5-page paper to crank out after that!) Jamey has routinely reminded me that part of being a grown-up is learning to accept that you’re always going to miss your friends, since they can’t always live near you in life. It’s something I – and we all – are still adapting to, and it will probably take several years more before we reach a point of realization that we can’t continue to strive for this all our lives; it just has to be accepted that we’ll move and flounder and explore across years, continents, and find a homestead eventually.

A homestead is a nice word. Denison first introduced it to me in college, but now I think it has a new meaning for me: a steady home for oneself, the place where family and friends continually reside in a lingering community. I like that it combines the elements of home and the ideal that we need a place for ourselves, whether it’s physical or just a place to keep our friends and family together in a mental space. Maybe this is what we all develop eventually, and mine is just taking its time to build.