A personal evolution and a return to Leavenworth – Leavenworth Times

Rebecca Hollister

I once had a bad habit of making broad statements about things I would never do. For example, I said that I would never have a roommate past freshman year of college, never attend a non-Ivy League school and never return to Leavenworth as an adult.

One promise I was also determined to keep was never living in what was known at Georgetown as Village A. Vil A, as we called it, was a massive sprawl of upperclassmen apartments, filled with heavy bass and raucous laughter at least four nights per week. However, housing selected Vil A for me and my roommates past freshman year, so I had to say goodbye to another of my past declarations.

Once I lightened up a bit, became less rigid, my whole world brightened. Though I did not always appreciate the constant noise, I felt like a true college student when I worried my ceiling would cave in due to parties on the second floor. I grew quite fond of Vil A, despite the constant smell of alcohol.

In March of that junior year, my life turned upside down. Georgetown informed everyone that students had to officially move out within two weeks, due to coronavirus. Unlike most of my friends who had gone home for spring break and wouldnt be back, I returned to campus from a trip to England, cut short by pandemic worries. As I rolled my suitcase up the stairs to campus, I had the now persistent feeling that something was wrong. I pinpointed it when I unlocked my door. Vil A was dead silent.

Even though students were gone for spring break, there were usually a select few that remained to party. On this night, I finally got the peace that I wanted. And I hated it.

The next five days were filled with chaos and the unknown. Mountains of stuff were thrust out of dorms; no one locked their doors. I said goodbye to a few acquaintances. One of my transgender friends sobbed, terrified to go home to unloving parents for an undetermined amount of time. My international friends worried about getting home safely and risks of exposure along the way. I gave the rest of my food and some furniture to those staying nearby, wishing them luck.

The universe was now making large declarations of things I would never do. I did not know that I would never step foot in many buildings on campus again, or attend temple services, or greet library patrons at my job. If I could go back to

If I could go back to those five days, I would run through each building, taking in the sounds and sights of students laughing, maskless. Part of why I had to break so many of my past self-promises was that my life changed so many times. I am constantly changing to this day.

The moment I finally stepped off the plane at the Kansas City airport, into the arms of my mother, I decided officially to clean my own slate. No more promises. I would let the universe guide me. I would never attend the same Georgetown again, but that was OK. I had grown, but Georgetown had stayed the same. It was now time to ask Leavenworth to grow along with me. Rebecca Hollister is

Rebecca Hollister is a Leavenworth Times columnist.

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A personal evolution and a return to Leavenworth - Leavenworth Times