The pollen slapped me across the face this week, and everything yellow made me love spring less these last few weeks in Atlanta before I share my town with the commencement crowd. Does anyone else think that 80 degree temperatures in April makes attending class entirely impossible? Pollen or not, I find myself firmly planted on every sunny bench I see.
Maybe I take things too far by baking on Cox Bridge with no sunscreen. My shirt-shaped tan is as much proof as the freckles on my nose that I spent key daytime hours outside instead of where I ought to have been: well-behaved in what I will forever call the Candler Dungeons.
When there are windows, I sit with my head almost hanging out of their frames but without drawing Spring Fever's attention, like the dogs in the Morningside mothers' SUVs, ears flopping in the wind with a carelessness I'm not sure their owners understand. But who am I to judge – my ears only flop today because my nose was buried in yesterday's grind.
So I'm a little crispy, and sometimes I remember to moisturize the way my father the Sun God used to remind me at some beach or other. But sometimes I don't. With one month left of the insulation of the college bubble, I might just rebel a little longer. Revel a little longer, irresponsibly, because the real world is still far away.
–By Chloe Olewitz
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