Yesterday I decided to visit my English professor from last semester.
Now, you need to understand-I am not the go-back-and-visit type. I don't know quite what it is, but when I feel something in life is over, I loathe revisiting it in any way. Even if it's just a polite hey-how-are-ya stop by or a harmless reunion, I cringe at the thought. I think I associate it with throwing off nature, or the flow of life because that period is supposedly done.
Um, I take myself too seriously sometimes.
Anyway, I just felt like I needed to talk to this professor. She was incredible-I learned so much from her class, not to mention from her. She pushed me to be a better writer but more importantly a better learner; a better reader but more importantly a better thinker. She was one of the toughest, most knowledgable, most genuine people I have ever met. We chatted. And she cared. It was incredible to witness-even though I'd only been her student for a semester, she was actually interested in every word that came from my not-as-educated, not-as-experienced, much, much younger mouth. When I was unsure whether or not she would even remember me, she was happy to see me.
Sometimes I think things are over when there is still much more to be learned, and much more happiness to pursue.