Dorm Love

My roommate and I sped up I-26 on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, hustling back to school after a weekend out of town. We were late for Dorland’s dorm potluck, and the vegan brownies in the seat between us were getting cold.

I love my dorm. I know it’s weird. I know that sometimes it smells funny, and when the window’s open it’s cold and when they’re shut it’s hot. I know that our toilet doesn’t always flush and sometimes you really don’t care to know what the people upstairs are doing (I swear they’re moving furniture), but none of this matters in the long run. I love my dorm because when we walked into the kitchen, all of our friends were sitting around the dinner table, and they were happy to see us. The food was on the stove (tacos!) and Sufjan Stevens was on the speakers. It was a low-key, relaxed night at home, and I couldn’t help but think of Thanksgiving dinners.

I love Dorland because of those nights where we build a fire in the fireplace and pull the couches into a circle. Max shows up with his guitar, then Marcus with a banjo, and Hannah brings her nyckelharpa (it’s Sweden’s national instrument, in case you didn’t already know). Dance parties are spontaneous, and last semester we learned that our RD makes a bangin’ pumpkin pie. From the swing on the porch you can watch the activity in Sage Circle and enjoy the breeze, and you’re sure to be joined by anyone looking for a little sunshine. When you play the Beatles in your room, people show up just to sing along.

So, I know it’s strange to love an old building with a questionable layout. I know you’re supposed to be chomping at the bit to move off-campus and get a “real place.” But the truth is, I love Dorland and the people who live there, and wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else.

Michelle