by Colleen
On Saturday, I called home for an update. I miss the goings-on of our big family in our big, rambling farmhouse while down here in Dallas, and calling and skyping home is one of my favorite things to do on a lazy Saturday morning. To my surprise, I found out that it is still winter back home, complete with 16 degree high temperatures and a foot of snow. The sunny, 65 degree weather outside my window had fooled me into thinking it was March or even April, and classes already seem to be interminable.
Despite the glorious weather, this semester has been off to an uncharacteristic start. Many of my closest friends are away across the ocean this semester, studying on the University of Dallas’ Rome campus, and while seeing gorgeous pictures of them traipsing across Italy on Facebook is fun, I’d much rather they were still living down the hall from me. In an attempt to become more cultured and not just sit in front of our computer screens, scrolling through pictures, a few of my friends from here (who are also never going to Rome) and I decided to get out into Dallas and attend a concert last Sunday night.
After a frantic day of studying, my friends Joe, Monica, and I headed out to the light rail station in the Dallas dusk, ready for some music and time away from campus. We alighted at Mockingbird station, and wandered around looking for a place to eat that was nowhere even close to cafeteria food. We found what we were looking for at Izmir’s Market and Deli. The Iranian man behind the counter was charming the falafal was fresh and flavorful, and for just a moment, we could pretend we weren’t in Dallas, TX. Satisfied, we headed to the concert, and spent the night enveloped in the music of the Punch Brothers, a folksy, Mumford and Sons-esque band that filled the Granada Theater with glorious sound.
We headed back to campus that night content and tired, our minds, not lost in contemplation of the streets of Rome, but centered on the present here and now, which suddenly seemed a lot less lonely.
sweetridgesisters 