I arrived on campus, my trunk packed to the hilt with clothes, my fancy outfit in a garment bag, a backpack full of necessities including my glasses, hearing aid batteries, and allergy medication. Rounding out the collection of stuff – because there is no better word – were bags of snacks, prepared meals for me due to allergies, and adult beverages. Thankfully, I did have the brilliant idea to toss in a foldable rolling cart to lug all of the things in the event that my storied alma mater did not provide carts of any sort. Lucky for me, I was right – though not as lucky for anyone else.
I approached the check-in desk and was faced with fresh-faced college students. There were several people in front of me in line and I opted to hang back and observe the interactions first for the checking-in procedure. I carefully watched how much people needed to speak to each other, what questions were being asked, and how the procurement of the key cards were being conducted. Luckily, each interaction appeared brief and I was able to hear the directions given to the arriving guests on how to scan into the dorm, and how to scan and punch in your code to gain access to your room. I made the quick decision to skip the hearing loss disclosure speech as I felt aptly prepared after looking, listening and memorizing the canned script being uttered by the employees. I stepped confidently to the front of the line, obtained my necessary access items, and sailed through the doors to my dorm.
I arrived at room 617, saying a silent prayer of gratitude that my room number matched the ubiquitous Boston area code because there was absolutely no way I was going to remember my room number as the weekend progressed. I dropped my things into my assigned bedroom and flopped on the couch in the common area, eagerly waiting for the arrival of the rest of my “roomies”.
As friends arrived throughout the afternoon, I realized that being in a group of people with cross-talk and voices that I have heard since I was 18 years old was both strangely familiar and foreign in equal measure. I was having a harder time than I anticipated keeping up with conversations. I found myself bluffing more than I have in recent memory which was upsetting but at the same time I knew if I was going to make it through the weekend with my energy intact for maximum enjoyment, I needed to be comfortable with the compromise of not getting everything.
There was a group dinner our first night, and while I was grateful for the invitation, I knew that it would be extremely challenging to navigate a private room in a restaurant packed with fellow alumni that I either knew, recognized, or was yet to meet. Too many voices, too many social pitfalls, and it wasn’t a high value event that I wanted to attend. I opted out, content with my decision to team up with my old friend Dan, who was also road weary and ready for some low-key hang-out time. The first thing he said to me when we sat down together to enjoy a few libations and get caught up was, “Can you hear me ok?” I almost cried at his thoughtfulness and remembrance. We live at a distance and see each other at most once a year, though we have kept up a steady stream of text dialogue during the off months between visits. He is not someone that is part of my regular routine, and the fact that he immediately offered that kindness was overwhelming in the best possible way. I knew I had made the right choice to stay on campus. It wasn’t long before we were staggering around to the old favorite spots, exploring the new construction, and reveling in being “home”. For all of us that come back here, there is a tingling familiarity and comfort that allow us to fully exhale in the embrace that is our alma mater.
After our exploration and return to the dorm, we had a lovely sandwich dinner for ourselves and awaited the return of our fellow classmates. They came roaring through the door a short time after our final bites were consumed. I was once again pulled out of 1:1 conversations and plopped into large group storytelling sessions. I once again did not catch every joke and my heart broke a little bit. I just didn’t have the energy to advocate for myself repeatedly. I also felt a tiny bit of guilt at not wanting to interrupt the flow or vibe of the night with peppering in phrases including, “Would you repeat that?” or “Please speak a little bit louder.” All of this was flying in the face of my advocacy work with Down the Tubes Productions and I was admittedly a bit ashamed of myself.
Inevitably, our 51 year old selves slowed down and it was time for bed. I survived the night on the way too high raised bunk bed resplendent with a very thin rubber mattress and even thinner pillow. Thankfully, I had brought my own pillow and comforter from home. These were perhaps the most critical items amongst my bevy of items after my hearing aid batteries. It made the night tolerable. I did give myself a very stern talking to about accepting that once I was in that bed, I was staying up there in the sky until the morning, no matter how badly a bathroom visit would be warranted. I knew that dismounting that absurd bunk would be impossible in the morning, nevermind in the middle of the night with nothing but a wobbly desk chair to ease my descent. On the flip side, when I awoke at 8:00 a.m. and my bladder was taking no prisoners whilst demanding a bathroom visit, I reminded myself that we were awake for the day and a return to summiting Everest (as I have named my bed) was not happening.
Naturally, I am the first one awake, hunkered down on the couch with my breakfast and laptop. At home, I move freely through the house banging and clanging and crinkling things as I begin my day. Here, I was overly cautious about making any noise at all as to not disturb my companions sheltered in their respective bedrooms atop their own versions of Kilimanjaro. (Why the college did not LOWER the bunks for our age bracket and older is a mystery! As I write this, one of my friends staggered out of his bedroom and said that bed was akin to climbing a beanstalk – nice to know that I was not the only one experiencing a challenge!) I realized that I am so used to being at home or being with Brad – two situations where noise management is not a consideration at all. It was a weird shift in practice to be cognizant of opening and closing the refrigerator door and trying to quietly open my package of Belvita breakfast biscuits (which was an impossibility no matter how hard I tried).
We have events throughout the afternoon and into the evening today. The weather outside is frightful with pouring rain and whipping winds. I have no idea how we are going to traverse this campus, and I am grateful for my wildly uncool – yet functional – LL Bean raincoat. My hearing aids need to stay dry- and of course I forgot my case.
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