I still think about her; it was this weekend 3 years ago. I talk about her; she came up as I answered an interview question: "tell us how you responded in a crisis situation." And then I shared about her in chapel as a significant piece of my story.
3 years ago, I stood outside on the deck overlooking the bay in Lincoln City. I rested my arms on the rails and leaned over the side, my body shaking with every sob-filled breath. My last memories of her include making breakfast and laughing at the ridiculous joke book we found on the coffee table.
It would have been this Sunday that I arrived back on campus. I remember pulling into the parking lot, watching the faces of my friends as they searched for mine.
Today, though, I drove my car onto a different campus. No one was waiting for me to arrive and everything was 'normal. '
My last visit to Lincoln City included a brief stop at the outlet malls. I bought a couple bath towels and then stepped in the Bath & Body Works store where my nose buds (similar to taste buds) did a little dance.
A lot has changed in 3 years except my memories of the ocean, butterflies, the color purple, and the "miracle oranges."