Rock your gypsy soul

My ride home from Bonaventure the day after graduation  felt dismal, empty, hollow. Mom kept rolling her eyes.

“All right, you think you’re done crying yet?”

So, so beyond that.

No need for me to explain the details of SBUD; it’s been done. When I thought I’d be writing a quirky, memorable BV column and a speech to make my friends cry, I didn’t expect to be infecting myself forever.

The ride home from Bonaventure Sunday, my second homecoming weekend, was silent, sleepy, yet still jarring. It left me wondering when the visits will quit becoming heart-rending reminders of the lazy lovefest of those four years, and will begin feeling like happy reunions.