What I Really Miss

How long ago was WJMC?

It’s only been two weeks since I arrived back in North Carolina from DC.

Two weeks.

It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen all of my beautiful friends.

Yet it feels like I was just waking up to my smiling roommates yesterday.

Why do I feel this way?

I miss the laughter, I miss the speakers, I miss the boxed lunches, and, yes, I even miss the four hours of sleep I got each night. I miss it all.

Why can’t I just go back and relive what I’ve already done?

I had heard that WJMC would impact your life. I’d heard it, but I didn’t believe it.

See, I’ve been to a couple summers of Girl Scout camp and I’ve gone to week-long conferences like this one. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can compare to how I feel about The Washington Journalism and Media Conference.

I knew these people for only five days.

Five days.

It felt like–it feels like–I had known them just as long as I’ve known all of my current friends that I go to school with.

It just felt right.

I miss how ambitious everyone was. No matter who you were, some teenager was rushing towards you, hand outstretched, ready to meet you.

“What’s your name, where are you from, and what’s a fun fact?”

I threw this statement at multiple people while I shoved my camera in their faces. Impersonal, I know, but that’s just what a journalist does.

I remember the first night that we were all together: Sunday. The Red Group was so awkward with so many new faces and personalities all clashed into a congregation of 25.

We were a family by Friday.

I am closer to more of my Red Group members than I am–or ever will be–to people in my graduating class at Pisgah.

So what happened?

Where did the time go?

All I want is a 2 a.m. bedtime and a 6 a.m. wake-up call.

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