Homecoming Recovery

     Midterms have passed, fall break is over, and finally Homecoming is over. Yes, finally.
     While the rest of campus was getting friendly with the alumni, attending events with the Board of Directors, and enjoying the seemingly endless abundance of alcohol, I was cleaning plates, serving three-course meals, and replenishing the coffee of the rich members who pay for my existence at this fine establishment. Yes, I am a caterer. And while everyone got to enjoy the lovely weekend and were exhausted on Monday, I was exhausted for an entirely different reason; I worked 45 hours in the course of three days. Dressed head-to-toe in a fabulously tragic all-black ensemble accented with a cheap tacky rad satin tie, I was hot, tired, and frazzled.
     Yet, in the midst of the chaotic frenzy of polishing 5,124 forks, knives and spoons, setting 437 tables, replenishing 123 chaffers, and serving 6 meals to the Board of Directors, all was not lost. As I stood in the completely converted room of Shouvlin 105, apron covered in salad dressing, knives stabbing me as I tried to quickly bus out the plates, people yelling at me demanding coffee, I looked around the room at the gold drapes lining the walls, glitter gleaming in the lights, and the posters of the alumni. This was the dinner for the alumni who graduated 50 years ago, and as I stood there frustrated and overwhelmed with sweat beading on my forehead, I had a moment of peace. These people had accomplished so much. They were laughing and talking about Greek life, telling stories of all the insane things they did on campus, and enjoying the company of there long lost friends. In the middle of this crazy night, my heart was filled with so much joy. The bitterness and disappointment of missing homcoming was replaced with an overwhlming sense of gratitude as I realized something. While I may have missed out on catching up with my old friends, I gained a new appreciation for homecoming. Homecoming isn't all about catching up or partying. While that may be a large part of it, there is something that lies much deeper and connects to the beginning roots of the school. It's about appreciation. It's about looking at those who have graduated and gone before us, and realizing that the friendships we are creating now will last a lifetime.
     As I continued clearing plates, I looked across the room at my best friend who was filling coffee cups to the ever demanding group, and we exchanged a smile of acknowledgement, that one day we will take the place of these alumni and enjoy the true purpose of Homecoming: being reunited with the people you adore in the place where your friendships began.
    
    

Abducted.

     12 years. That's how long Sabrina Allen had been missing. Officials say that she was taken from her home in Texas at the age of four, and was held captive by her own mother. Her mother then fled to Mexico where they remained in hiding for 12 years.
     There is something truly haunting about this story. To be kidnapped in any situation is just horrible, but to have the offender be your own mother? I can't even imagine the psychological anguish that this teen is feeling. Her mother would make her go through extensive changes to ensure their anonymity. Different hair colors. Different hair cuts. Different styles. Constantly running from a force that she couldn't see, and the only person she could trust is the person that has been lying to her for her entire life. This is the definition of true terror.
     Yet, beneath the dark and desolate blanket of this story, lies a silver lining. Even though 12 years of this girl's life has been squandered, her strength has overcome her pain, her perseverance has overcome her victimization, and her will to survive has overcome her captor. She will be reunited with her father, and although she may suffer some trauma, above all, she is a survivor.