I graduated from St. Mary's ten years ago. The campus is full of history, both mine and a colony's. It remains one of my favorite places in this world: part memory, part simplistic beauty. It's the place where I made my truest friends and fell in love and where, at the time, I thought I became an adult. I know better now; I know that I had a lot more growing up to do, but you couldn't have convinced me of that at the time.
Alumni Weekend remains one of my favorite weekends of the summer-- my favorite weekends of the year. Dozens of friends wandering around the campus, finding their way to the waterfront. In the past ten years I have made remarkably few friends who did not go to St. Mary's. Although I didn't know most of them when I went there, and others weren't even there at the same time, there is something about the people who choose that place that feel like my people. It felt that way when I was sixteen and eager to be living away from home, and it feels that way still, as I camp with my kids in The County.
Sailboats, inner tubes, beach side pizza, early morning donuts, mosquito ridden campsite, one small fight with Tom, a handle of Tito's in the bottom of a stroller, a whole lot of Summer Shandy, crab pickin', and some seriously adorable man a cappella. It was a damn good way to spend a weekend.