The Naked Red Snapper is ready to rejoin the school

Yesterday, I took the train from Maine down to Boston with my parents, my fiance and her father. We did the typical tourist things: walk the freedom trail, go to Quincy Market, and take both a harbor and trolley tour. I felt something akin to awe in the "Cradle of Liberty," nurtured by the view of the USS Constitution and the Bunker Hill monument (which is, oddly enough, not on Bunker Hill but Beacon Hill). The sheer amount of history that occurred in that single city was overwhelming. The near endless amount of information thrown around like so many bags of tea on that day back in 1773 solidified the feeling that this was a city "steeped" in history.

But of all the things I saw yesterday, the one that made the biggest impression was couched in a not-so-interesting tour of Cambridge. After winding along a car-packed Mass. Ave listening to the banal anecdotes of a clearly neophyte tour guide, the trolley passed by the gates of that bastion of learning--Harvard.

Students were sitting on the grass reading assignments. They were sitting in cafes discussing erudite topics. They were doing things that I had been doing only two years ago and missed desperately. But at that point, I did not feeling a longing for academia, but a jealously that was stronger than anything I had felt in a long time. Why did they get to spend their days indulged in books while I sat here on this trolley watching them from the outside?

Perhaps it was the blustery day that found me reaching for my non-existent jacket or watching students giving tours of Harvard Yard that stirred my yearning for a return to school. I had been milling between trepidation and excitement about once again knocking on the gates of the ivory tower, but yesterday saw a swift shift toward the latter. I still have nearly a month before school starts and can't wait for it to do so.

I can't wait to be inundated with readings and reports. I doubt I'll be able to say that in two months.