Page 8 of Hannah.
Mom twists around in her seat and grins at me. Her eyes are shining, but they aren’t filled with tears. She’s keeping it together. I mean, it’s not like they’ll be left alone once back home. They still have three kids there to keep them busy. After along pause where she stares at me, Mom finally says, “Well, here we are.”
I smile back at her and act like I’m not excitedly shaking. It doesn’t work. I’m a little nervous, too. Cambridge looks like the old academic world that I always expected it to be, with its red brick buildings and its Gothic architecture. There’s a quaint, historic feel to the place.
Exiting the car, I find myself standing on the hallowed grounds of the university, my eyes wide with awe. Towering spires reach for the sky; their ancient stones have stood for centuries, watching generations of students come and go. Ivy-clad buildings line the streets, and leaves fall from trees in the fall air and spiral down to dot the sidewalks.
Walking down the cobblestone pathways, past the immaculate landscaping, and under the ancient trees, I feel a sense of belonging. This is my new home. Done are my days of the boring high school courses and droning teachers trying to get me interested in things that have no meaning to me. Now, I can finally start classes that cover what I care about—Art History.
We stop briefly at the administration office, and I let my parents handle the paperwork while my mind is busy in a million different places. This is what I’ve been waiting for, and this is the start of something new. It’s the start of my future, and it’s going to be a good one.
“Are you excited?”
Mom’s words bring me back to the present. They’ve rejoined me, and now it’s time to head to the dormitory to unpack.
I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “Yeah, it feels kinda surreal.”
Dad places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, grounding me in this moment. “You’re going to be the first member of the family studying in a British college. Surreal, indeed.”
I nod again, not knowing what to tell him. It’s true that everyone in the family studied either at the University of Amsterdam or somewhere else close by; for some reason, studying abroad never really occurred to them.
As a History of Art fresher, I’ll be staying in the Corpus Christi college dormitories, close to the center of campus. As we get on walking, I reflect on all that has brought me here. The years of hard work, the hours spent studying, and the incredible support from Oma—it all comes down to this moment. Looking up, the architecture around me blends Gothic splendor and timeless elegance. Leaded windows offer glimpses into libraries where stacks upon stacks of books reside. There are no classes this week, just social activities, so the streets and sidewalks are bustling with students and parents.
We reach my dorm building, and sunlight spills through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the common room. A crackling energy is in the air as new students mingle with upperclassmen, and droves of emotional parents drop their children off. It’s so crowded that I can't tell much about the common room, but I’m sure there will be time for that later. I don’t know how much time I will spend socializing, but I’m determined to get a real college experience. Unlike Elise and Andries in their expensive, ridiculous apartments, attending class before going back and lounging like royalty. No. That’s not for me.
For now, it's time to get settled into my new home. Mom, her eyes still shimmering with emotion, reaches for the handle, and the door swings open, revealing a space bathed in late morning light. I told my parents, over and over again, that I wanted the same college experience as anyone else, which they didn’t love. But this is my first foray into adulthood, and I want it to be right. No special privileges because of our family's wealth and prestige. I’ve felt like I won that argument, but when we stepinto the single dorm room with an attached private bathroom, I grow suspicious that Mom and Dad might have made some calls before we arrived. I turn to look at my parents, but neither of them meet my eyes. I’m not surprised, really.
“Guys, it's a great room, but I said no special treatment.”
My mother clears her throat. “This is standard, Hannah. The college has plenty of private dorms.”
I don't believe that for a second, but I decide not to argue. It’s a small thing, and the room is amazing. Plus, I can’t say I’m upset about having my own bathroom. Sharing one was something I wasn’t looking forward to.
“Alright, thanks.”
Okay, so...this is really it. This is my new home. The room isn't just a space; it's a canvas where my dreams will take shape, where I'll study and sleep and live my entire new life. It’s a modest size, simple and comfortable. My bed, neatly made with the standard white sheets the college provides, is smaller than my one at home but perfectly adequate. The shelves, waiting to be adorned with books, excite the reader in me. I didn’t bring a lot of reading material with me, but if all the libraries I’ve seen are any indication, I’ll have plenty to borrow and peruse as the quarter goes by. The bathroom is small and simple, but having it to myself really will be a luxury.
“It’s not too late to get you an apartment,” Dad points out, observing the space with a critical eye. “Somewhere private where you aren’t living in the same hallway as fifty other kids. I could make it happen today, tomorrow at the latest–”
“Dad,” I say amid a quick chuckle. “Stop. It’s fine. This is what I want.”
He shakes his head, heaving a sigh. “So damn stubborn.”
Mom’s hand lands on my shoulder, her voice soft with maternal love. “Let's get you unpacked, darling.”
Their confidence in me fills the room as we unpack, each item finding its place. Family photos, decorations, my own bedding, and even a few favored trinkets find their new home, transforming the space into my own personal haven and making it truly mine.
When we've finished unpacking, I look around the room with a sense of satisfaction and pride. It’s not much, but it's a start.
The opening year ceremony is mandatory for students, and even if they don't have to stay, Mom and Dad insist that they wouldn't miss it for the world. I wonder if Andries and Elise got this enthusiastic of a send-off.
The venue for the ceremony, adorned with ornate carvings and stained-glass windows, is full of the chattering of other freshers. The little groups of friends give me pause—I don’t know a single person here, and I’m not the most sociable person. But I will have to make it work. If I don’t find anyone to relate to, solitude won’t be all that bad. The wooden chairs creak softly as we settle in, the whispers and private conversations dwindling as the ceremony draws near.
It’s exciting, really, seeing so many students, all with different dreams and ambitions, come together in one place. It’s a little like being part of a team, even if we haven’t been officially introduced. A hush falls over the crowd as the dean, a distinguished-looking man with graying hair and a severe expression, steps onto the stage. He introduces himself and begins his welcome speech.
His voice, commanding yet kind, fills the hall, wrapping us in the majesty and tradition of it all. “Dear students,” he begins, his gaze sweeping over each eager face, “You’re standing on thebrink of something extraordinary, a journey that will mold you, challenge you, and shape you into the thinkers of tomorrow. This is the dawn of a new era for you, a chance to forge your own path and create your own destiny.”
The dean’s words fill me with anticipation. I can’t wait to start this new journey and am determined to make the most of it. As the opening ceremony winds down, I find myself feeling more optimistic than I’ve ever been. With the future laid out before me, I know that nothing can stand in my way.
The pinnacle of the ceremony arrives when the dean, his eyes sparkling with pride, exclaims, “To new bonds, enlightenment, and the pursuit of knowledge!”