The currently empty Frog Alley feels desolate, but on game day, it’s hard to even find a clear path on which to walk.
The multitude of brands and sponsors promoting themselves overwhelm the passers-by who vigilantly avoid their flyers and free products. The supply of Budweiser and Natty Light in the Alley, and the tailgates surrounding the campus for miles, seem endless, and make the students believe they are invincible. In spite of the overwhelming heat once kickoff ensues in The Carter, as thousands harmoniously shout, “T-C-U, Frogs!” I feel invincible. Cheering for my friends on the field until my vocal chords feel terminally shriveled up, I can’t help but brim over with pride as I fade into the great mass of purple surrounding me.
But for now, I’m the only one here — laying in my Eno, trying to fend off bugs, staring at the stadium, and wishing it was football season once again.
Other than the rustle of a strong wind throughout the trees, the only sound is a train in the distance, turning the corners of my mouth upward as “touchdown for the Frogs!” echoes in my head. The grass in Frog Alley looks sickly, longing for its thirst to be quenched, but instead withers away with every step taken on it. In the middle of football season however, cowboy boots merrily stomp around the thick, vibrant grass until it becomes muddy and undetectable; by the next game, it miraculously thickens back to its original rich form.
The chaos that occurs during football season makes up and strengthens the backbone of TCU as an institution.
However, envisioning that chaos in addition to day-to-day life at TCU as a high school senior is close to impossible. A tour lead by happy, pretty students guiding you to the buildings housing your potential major doesn’t accurately represent life at TCU. Regardless of the how many times I visited and toured the school, life as a student simply can’t be summed up in an admissions pamphlet or tour. Times of academic and personal struggles, loneliness, happy and unforgettable moments on campus, and ultimately, my utter belonging here, could not have been possible to foresee in high school. Especially the belonging I feel cocooned in my Eno in Frog Alley.
Very rarely have I felt foreign here.
But similar to game day, resting in my Eno, I can never find the right position. I never have enough room to feel fully comfortable in the stadium or at tailgates, yet I still relish in the presence and environment of the game, as well as the eager joy preceding games at tailgates. But physically, I never align with that.
When I wanted an Eno and asked for it as a birthday present, I somehow just “knew” that it would be relaxing, chill and fun at all times. But to my surprise, it takes much thought to achieve the perfect Eno set-up. The trees in which the straps latch onto should be thick enough to enable maximum vertical width, facilitating more room to observe and stretch. Since the trees that I’ve fastened my straps onto haven’t met that criterion, I always end up lying in stiff, pencil-like form, with little view of the captivating area in which I belong.
I simply haven’t found the perfect Enoing tree here on campus yet — none that I’ve come across have been thick enough, yet not at the top of a tall tree. Maybe I’ll have to wait until I move off campus, or until my TCU career ends to finally feel relaxed. Maybe I’ll have to wait until then to also feel comfortable and secure in my work, faith and social life.
Regardless, I know I must navigate my way through that discomfort by exploring it and challenging myself.
By this point, I’ve learned plenty of lessons that thoroughly taught me this: life guarantees obstacles and discomfort. There’s no way to avoid them all, so might as well prepare for them as best as you can, embrace them, and reflect upon them. I prepared for college: went to Bed Bath & Beyond, prayed lots about trust and confidence, and got tons of advice from friends. Of course I couldn’t prepare for everything, so when those obstacles that weren’t on my “college checklist” came about, I accepted them and readjusted. Now as I reflect upon hardships from even a year ago, I feel more equipped for what life throws at me next — the good and the bad.
But, regardless of the good and bad to come, for now, I’m just swinging as comfortably as I can, captivated by the place that I hold dearest to my heart, with the wind gently brushing my face and hair as it blows westward.
Photo courtesy of Allison Fish