Monday, August 06, 2007

Holy Moley

I took this shot inside the Memorial Church at Stanford last week. It doesn't do justice to the beauty of this building. I have a lot of issues surrounding organized (or disorganized) religion, but I LOVED being in this sanctuary. I can see myself using this gorgeous space for meditation. They set up a labyrinth to walk each Friday on the huge marble area by the altar (which has, I am sure, some particular and outside-the-common-vernacular name).

Hey, I went to Stanford! It was. . .hmmm. It was absolutely overwhelming. The Good Man and I arrived in Palo Alto (the ritzy little town on the outskirts of the University) as it was getting dark, and the enormity of what I am about to tackle came over me like a fever. We found a lovely sidewalk cafe and had a bite, and were both feeling the upcoming separation as a reality that is right around the corner. I am crazy in love with this man and not being able to be in the same room on a daily basis is a sad thought. We have shed some tears over this, yet we are both firm that me NOT doing Stanford is out of the question.

The next day was the Transfer Visit Day on campus. I drove over and promptly got turned in some bizarre direction, despite a decent map. Stanford is the largest college campus in the U.S. and second-largest in the world (topped only by the University of Moscow). Getting lost on campus seemed to be a common theme throughout the day, mentioned by pretty much every person that chatted with us, from faculty to staff, to recent graduates. The Good Man arrived on campus after lunch and even with cell phones it took us a ridiculous amount of time to run into each other.

The welcome showered on the transfer students was humbling and heartening. Stanford only accepted 22 this year, out of 1400 applicants from around the world. That number made me a little swimmy in the head. Two acceptees will not be attending; one deferred so he can do a tour in Iraq (may he stay safe and sound) and one person declined. Declined?? I would shave my left eyebrow to know what other offer could have come up.

I saw a fraction of the campus, a few of the many fountains, some of the incomparable Rodin sculptures. What a day! By the time I drove back to the hotel, I was massively overwhelmed. I wanted to weep, but kept holding it at arm's length.

Finally, discussing the day over a glass of good California Zinfandel at dinner with the Good Man, the multitude of feelings culminated in a wave that I could barely contain. All the things that I have overcome in my life to get to this place: half-assed parenting by my folks, 18 years of marriage to a man who made it his mission in life to grind me down so far that I would never find my way back; the devastating loss of my little girl. I was crying, and I wanted to slam my fist down on the table and shout:

"I AM! STILL! HERE! AND HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW??"