Returning to a New York City Park Bench

New York City from the Jersey side of things

The last time I was in New York City, I spent a good hour sobbing on a bench in Washington Square Park while my parents tried unsuccessfully to console me.

I was a mess of emotions struggling to comprehend how I would ever get over not being able to attend my dream school, NYU, because of the accompanying price tag.

In the end, I choose Illinois and now I couldn’t be happier with my decision.

The college process was hardly easy. But with my first year down at Illinois, I am almost mad at my senior year self for being so absorbed in the process.

Throughout that entire time, my dad kept saying to my deaf ears, “It will all work out.”

And even though a year ago, I didn’t believe it ever could, it has indeed all worked out for the best.

I’ve got a great group of friends and have really made the most of my experience by soaking up every opportunity I could grab. Where I was apprehensive a year ago, I am now confident in my decision.

So this past week, I was able to once again hit New York City and found a strange peace with myself.

As much as I love New York, I was worried that the entire summer I spent agonizing over my decision would once again manifest itself while being in the city.

I was scared that something would make me regret my decision in choosing Illinois, regardless of how much I know it was the right choice.

At first, I wanted nothing to do with “that” area by NYU and only went over by the campus when my high school friend, who lives in the city, suggested it.

Call it the typical running away from the problem, but I didn’t want to go of my own accord.

So when we ended up sitting by the fountain under the city lights, I’ll be honest in that the thoughts of what could have been did play through my head.

But, as my friend and I exchanged stories, I found myself missing those college moments I was laughing at just thinking about. For those are my experiences that have transformed me and will continue to make me who I am.

I think going back finally allowed me to come to terms with all the feelings and anxieties that I had last summer. I didn’t want to listen to those telling me it would be okay, but I’ve realized a big part of life is figuring out on your own that it will be okay.

I’m only 19 years old, so who knows if this works for every monstrous obstacle that will come my way, but to see all the change imparted upon me since my last time on a Washington Square Park bench is such an incredible thing. And to know I can go back now with memories of laughter, rather than crying, is even better.

Washington Square Park