Something about the pure joy of teenaged freedom must have disagreed with me, because I immediately fell ill with mononucleosis. I did not get it the fun way. It makes total sense that I had trouble digesting the sweet nectar of freedom after my parent's strict and unconditional love. I had led a drug-free, out on a school night-free, having friends over-free lifestyle. Yes, alcohol is a drug.
If you add these straight-laced policies to the fact that, at the time, I was rolling into school each day wearing a yarmulke and talit katan hanging down the sides of my wide-whale corduroys, you should get the picture that, for me, high school was not "the best time of my life." I mean, who doesn't imagine their optimal high school experience as escaping the people in their hometown to hang out with their youth group friends an hour's drive away in upstate New York.
I envisioned college as an everyday upstate New York, and I had been desperate to inhabit that space for the past two years. But, like any drama worth its mustard, this play would have two acts. The particular strand of mono that infected me clogged my insides for a feverish two months. My failing body forced me to take a medical deferral and return the next fall.
 |
| Artist rendering: But the green color is accurate |
