Two years and six months ago, I walked into a small apartment in Campus Trails. A beautiful husky ran to greet me before its owner, one of my two random roommates. A pizza box littered the floor and a TV played faintly in the background. This was my first encounter with Starkville.
To say the least, I was nervous. Though I was a college junior, I had never been to a university. I spent my freshman year at a small private college in Georgia, but by spring semester, my mother had fallen ill. At the start of my sophomore year, I enrolled at Hinds Community College so I could frequently visit home if needed. 
I fared well at Hinds, meeting some of my sweetest friends, as well as my mentor, so I was not thrilled to leave. In fact, I was directionless. I had never been to a college of more than 1,000 people, where all of my teachers knew me by name, where I established myself, where I had community in every area: spiritual, academic and extracurricular. University would not look like this, right?
Beyond that, transferring would make me a “freshman” for a third time. I generally love new experiences and am able to find a silver lining, but doing and undoing the knots of myself became an exhausting task. To be frank, Mississippi State University offered me the most scholarship money of other colleges I applied to, so I shrugged and thought, “Sure.” A month before the fall of 2016 began, I enrolled, got accepted, signed up for classes, found a place to live, packed my things and cried a lot. 
When I reflect on those fears, though, I cry again, for gratitude. My first semester as a transfer student was confusing, but I quickly learned many things, such as rain jackets, are an imperative here. You must enter some classrooms from the back, lest you walk on stage with your professor. But by the following spring, roots were sinking deep into the soil of my life.
I joined a transfer student group at the Wesley, where I met several students with stories like mine. I wrote and photographed for The Reflector, and would later spend many, many hours as its photography editor. I fell in love with literary theory. I studied abroad. I spent many afternoons at 929. I listened to guest speakers, and spoke at a conference. I made peace with my burdens. I saw my first pride parade. I met one of my bridesmaids. I laughed when I realized everything I hoped college would be was, knowing the stories and hearts of this place permeated the walls I first brought. Everything, all at once, was so important to me.
In two weeks, I will graduate. I will order a medium dark roast at 929 one more time and I will try to write my favorite professors letters, though I do not think words can show how much they have shaped me. I will pack up books that rattled me and little Polaroid pictures from 21st birthday and dinner dates. What I cannot pack is the spirit of this town. How it humbled my fears and carved notches into the spaces of me. How it prepared me for the next step. How it gave my voice lungs.
To whoever is reading: do not take gratitude lightly. Savor your seconds. And Mississippi State, thank you, thank you, thank you.