By Sydney Franklin 05.02.2014

We brought him down in a clear plastic Dixie cup full of water. He lay on his side, barely moving – slightly pitiful. My roommate Hannah, without permission, dressed up for the occasion in one of my favorite sundresses and a leather jacket. I wore shorts. On that unusually warm October day, five friends and I gathered at Buffalo Creek for the funeral of our pet goldfish Buffy.

 

After much debate, Hannah and I decided that it was time to release Buffy into the “wild” to die and be at peace. A week prior to this decision, we started to notice Buffy couldn’t hold himself up upright. He also couldn’t hold in his excrement either. I hated that fish.

 

Hannah couldn’t bear the thought of opening the door to our Sutton dorm room one afternoon to find Buffy floating lifeless at the top of his ridiculously large and lavish tank.

 

So, we set him free. Somewhere in the depths of Buffalo Creek lives Buffy’s bright orange spirit.

 

Not a month after Buffy’s funeral service did Hannah purchase a bluish-purple beta fish named Mishy. All was well with Mishy, until Hannah called me on her way home that Christmas Break. He’d died inside the makeshift water baggie she’d made for his travels.

 

She cried. I laughed.

 

Our third and final attempt as pet owners involved the purchase of two neon glofish and an African dwarf frog from the Johnson City Petco. Frankly, I don’t remember what happened to them.

 

I never knew what each day would hold with Hannah. For the two of us, life at Milligan was always over-the-top. Whether it was the death of a tiny goldfish or the stress of a 10-page composition paper we hadn’t completed until hours before its due date, Hannah and I were usually distraught about some trivial event.

 

I liked it that way. Milligan was home to me with Hannah.

 

At first, surrounded by all the Tennessee accents and Chacos, I wasn’t sure if I belonged here. But when I met Hannah, I knew I’d made the right choice.

 

Four years later, I belly laugh at the memories we created together. While being in college comes with a certain degree of frustration and heartache, I easily survived with Hannah by my side.

 

All that changed on May 16, 2012.

 

In the middle of my 10-minute drive to the Louisville Athletic Club, Hannah called. Summer rain poured down the sides of my windows as she started talking.

 

“Sydney, I’m not coming back.”

 

“What are you talking about?” I shouted back in fear, but I knew what she was talking about.

 

Milligan was too expensive and she hadn’t exactly soared through nursing school. On top of that, Hannah had some serious injuries during soccer. While I was heartbroken for my best friend’s situation, I also wondered what that meant for me. If Hannah wasn’t at Milligan, how would I survive? Would it still feel like my home?

 

In my car that day I wrote a desperate prayer in my notebook, begging God to show me his plan.

 

I’m more scared now than ever. Please prepare me these next six months to stay strong and learn how to thrive at Milligan without Hannah.

 

I left that fall for a semester internship in Washington, D.C. About two weeks into my program, I wrote a blog post titled “Trust me, this serves a purpose too,” which detailed my thoughts about leaving Milligan:

 

Allow me to indulge myself as I recall all the reasons why I should NOT be at Milligan:

 

1. Hannah is not there. 2. Hannah is not there. 3. Hannah is not there.

 

Catch my drift? This semester is not only an adventure, a learning experience, a tool for growth and development in my chosen career, but a buffer for my soul. When I come back in the spring, you better bet that I’ll be in it to win it.

 

It’s natural for people to come in and out of our lives. College is one of the first places we learn this hard lesson. When someone intentionally or unintentionally leaves us, we have to make a decision to be OK.

 

I missed Hannah during that transition and I miss her now. But while we’re still friends, God has placed people in my life over the past two years to take her place and to fill other needs that I didn’t know I had.

 

I got back from D.C. in December and Meghan Wymer, who spent the semester in Oxford, England, was the only junior in need of a Sutton roommate. Until then, we were casual friends. We’d spent three weeks touring Europe together the summer before. Once situated in my new dorm, I quickly discovered that Meghan was an even better fit for me than Hannah.

 

Together, we reintegrated back into Milligan life – reuniting with old friends, making new friends, writing way less difficult papers than we did abroad, and watching the our DVD series Friends until 1 a.m. when we were stressed.

 

It felt natural with Meghan. It must have been then that I realized Milligan was still my home, even without Hannah.

 

Here I am with one week left at Milligan. I’ve had 10 roommates throughout my college career. Five of those I lived with in Washington, three of those I live with now. I’m grateful for all of my experiences in Sutton, Williams and at 321 8th Street NE, Washington, D.C. My housing situations have changed drastically over the years, but these are the places where I’ve grown up.

 

Since Hannah left, I haven’t gone to many soccer games. I haven’t written many more frantic prayers. I haven’t owned any pet fish. But it's still home.

 

P.S. Ang, Zeebs and Tita: WE MADE IT!