very much

When I looked at my fellow college girls over our steaming bowls of pesto cavatappi today, I got this swell of sentimental warmth that I'm pretty sure is just like my dad's story about the moment he knew he was going to marry my mom: all the sudden I could see the houses we'll keep and the children we'll raise and the way we'll dress when we're old. My mom thinks she is getting uglier and my father is getting more handsome as they get older but it doesn't matter because if you believe her, she wishes she went to Smith and never met my father. I'm not going to go to Smith because I'd be missing on my existing collegiate sisterhood in favor of a forced and foreign one. I don't totally know what I'm doing but I swear I'll figure it out in the next seventeen days. Goodnight, very much love to Urbana, Illinois.