Finally a Wilsonian

I've always been ever so slightly ashamed to say that I'm in Wilsons. Shallow maybe but true. In my three years in Wilson's, I've always held on to my identity as a Xavierite, looking ever so subtly down my nose at all things Wilson. Except my department related things that is. Sporadically over the last three years, I've often wished I was in Xaviers. At the end of every year, contemplating changing colleges and switching back to Xaviers.

But something held me back. Whether it was just plain laziness, not wanting to acclimatise myself again with new professors, classmates and friends or something more deeper and profound I don't really know.

But now that it's my last year in Wilson's and effectively my last semester too. I find myself depressed at the thought that I won't be in Wilson's anymore. There's so much that I will miss. More than I ever thought possible.

And as I stood there on my graduation night, with my cap and my gown, I felt my eyes mist over at the thought that I would no more be a Wilsonian. Only an ex-Wilsonian. Surrounded by my classmates. Some of whom I've been on none too good terms with. All I could think about was how much I would miss them. All the inside jokes we share. No more industrial visits. No more late night jaunts to each others rooms armed with drinks and food. No more crazy laughter at drunken antics. No more silly nicknames to give each other.

And I looked across at the man I look upto most in this world. My Professor. And I was even more grateful for Wilsons. For which other college could have given me a teacher like that.

And more than that, I will miss the college. Miss walking up those staircases everyday and marvelling at the thousands of students who must have walked these halls before me and those yet to come. The magnificent history behind Wilson's.

And in my last few days in Wilsons, I'm now a Wilsonian where it matters most.