When I came to the University of Utah last fall, I was scared and alone, but so ready for a change from who I was in high school. I was small and had yet to find my voice. I cried a lot. I didn't have many friends who I felt I would keep in touch with, and even fewer, it turned out, would keep up their end to keep in touch with me. I was a small town girl in a bigger city, but it was still Utah, and Utah has been home to me for almost as long as I can remember.
I remember my mom telling me everyone felt like I did, but I didn't believe it. How could I believe these laughing, smiling, social people were truly as cripplingly un-functional as I was? I remember getting all my roommate's numbers, and being so scared to talk to them because all my friends at home were convinced they would be like the girl from the movie The Roommate (which wasn't actually a scary movie, but it would be in real life).
Throughout the summer leading up to my time at the University, I texted with my actual roommate, as well as the girl who would be living in the room next to mine, our rooms connected by the bathroom. Both seemed nice. But both seemed like they weren't really interested in getting to know me. I had texted the other suite-mate, but she had been busy at the time. I didn't know what to think of that one.
That one is who this post is about. I remember moving in, and discovering both my roommate and I had forgotten toilet paper, and I remember texting the last roommate who would be coming in that day in panic mode because not having toilet paper is a near-crisis. Her name was Sarah.
Sarah immediately became the mom-figure of the house. She was and is the ever-practical, straight-talking, no-bullshit kind of girl whose favorite things are babies and having a good time. We were roommates all last year, all the way up until this past weekend, when she moved back up onto campus. I woke up this morning to two of her blogposts which I hadn't yet read, and because I miss her already, I read those instead of doing my art homework. So sue me.
Sarah has had such a powerful effect on my life in such a short amount of time. She introduced me to my first lasting, non-roommate friend, Westin (who is heading to Anaheim, CA in just over a week to serve a LDS mission, and, let me tell you, he'll be the most incredible missionary that state has ever seen; he practically drips glitter and the gospel behind him when he walks). She forced me out of my room when I needed to be forced, and let me or made me stay in when she knew I wasn't comfortable going out or should have been doing better things. She threw me my first college birthday party and didn't think it was weird when I wanted us all to dress nicely and go out to sushi (she found the restaurant). She was my Valentine when I was alone on Valentine's Day. She decorated the dorm room for every holiday and birthday. She didn't baby me, or anyone, and some people couldn't handle that, but I needed it badly. She made me apply for study abroad in the Dominican Republic, even when she couldn't go. She wrote me a letter in the middle of the night on my old typewriter and hid it for me to find later, and I kept it because if Sarah says something nice about you, you relish that shizz. She gave me excellent traveling advice: that trip was for me; stop worrying about everyone else. She is one of two people who talked me through my most recent breakup before it happened, but let me realize it needed to happen on my own, six months after she had figured it out. She has given me a place to stay when I needed it, introduced me to her friends so I'm not alone, and let me alone when I needed to figure out how to sink or swim. She's hugged me and screamed with me and turned on all the sad movies when we both just needed a good cry.
Sarah, you were the best roommate, and I don't dare say that we'll never live together again because I might fight that one. But for now, I'm happy that you're still my best friend. I love you, and I'm so proud of how much you've grown since I've known you. Thank you for all you've done for me. I'll see you later, babe. Jaja.
.alexis.
