Sitting in Atlanta summer rain, I thought wet might end when school started, like a magical mop, soaking up the moisture that has kept our cotton heavy. Hoping that fall would come and leaves would turn and we would go to the library. For some of us the first weeks are slow, for some still we each hold our breath for the deluge we foresee. With weeks to come, we stockpile energy, hoping to hold on a little longer this ride around the rodeo. Our new freshmen friends have never worked this hard, some of us take the classes that count, some of us cruise. But we crack down, library. We hunt for workstations, Cox. A moment on the quad? A breath of fresh air? Maybe now, while our summer rain calm lingers.
Girls in galoshes think their summer socked feet are pointless when the day dries on, until somewhere between classes it rains, again, summer storms, school soaked because we don’t know how to drain. In a fresh quad afternoon, I wish I had thought of rain boots when the downpour begins and I run umbrellaless to a building conveniently completely across campus. My feet are puddle-soaked but I issue silent prayers for a dry laptop when I dash into Peavine and drag my drenched day home.
Three years ago, my freshman Fall semester was waterlogged. Everything was wet and we waddled through puddles unprepared in a city we had selected to seek better weather. More sun. Longer soft seasons. There was the rain then, and we have the same dark rain now, and if it’s not raining it’s gray, and I have convinced myself it really is nature’s way of forcing us to study. Eliminate weather kind distractions, and without a chance to frolic in shorts and sandals we will definitely study more. I’m sure we will. Right?
So how are classes going so far? Are we working too hard yet? Are we bored yet? Is it time for vacation? Thanksgiving? Escape hangs heavy on the tongues of Cox-burdened students buried under bookbags and highlighters for color coding, but it’s only September and we’ve been here not much more than one week.
So we throw our hands up on the rollercoaster, maybe, and welcome the ride. The wet ride through rainy campus with no gear, thinking we should put a slip and slide down Dickey Drive. I run into new kids on the block with high school swag from my hometown, I give the best welcome I can, I show them the good spots and share the Hotlanta love, rain or shine. We see people we know, we share brollies, we hide under Cox bridge coverage. I tell them, wellies might be a good investment, y’all.
– By Chloe Olewitz
The Emory Wheel was founded in 1919 and is currently the only independent, student-run newspaper of Emory University. The Wheel publishes weekly on Wednesdays during the academic year, except during University holidays and scheduled publication intermissions.
The Wheel is financially and editorially independent from the University. All of its content is generated by the Wheel’s more than 100 student staff members and contributing writers, and its printing costs are covered by profits from self-generated advertising sales.
