There were four Beatles.
There were the Fantastic Four.
The fourth day of the week is Wednesday.
The fourth letter of the alphabet is D.
There are four suits of playing cards, and four nations in the United Kingdom.
The President's term is four years.
The seasonal Olympics are every four years.
There are four seasons.
There are four directions.
I have been in college for four years.
And in four days, we graduate.
Year 1: As freshmen, we arrived in our pearls, toting our Vera Bradley and our dreams up the front steps of Martin Hall. We ran down the halls of the dorm, caught the elevator ten minutes too late to our first class, and stayed up until 3 a.m., laughing and playing and befriending each other. We had dates to the ballgame, discovered mimosas, and gleefully danced the night away at formal after date party after formal for the first time. There were hard nights that we survived. There were heartbreaks that we survived. There were nights of too much fun that, somehow, we managed to survive. Our first year, we learned how to live. Independent, but together. We learned how to survive in reckless abandon, in happiness, in freedom, in joy. We had our first taste of this new life and we learned it was ours.
Year 2: As sophomores, we moved out on our own. We decorated apartments, hosted parties, played house. No longer the bottom of the class system, the whole world was ours. We invaded fraternity houses, surprised our best friends on birthdays, rode bikes with our hair in the breeze, lay on the lawn in the sun, and grew more comfortable in our own skin. We sang the star spangled banner in our bathing suits together. We fell into our best friends- we immersed ourselves in the love and warmth of having a group of our own. We messed up. We lived it up. And we always found our way out on top. Our second year, we learned how to love. We learned how to appreciate a friend for her shoulder, provide words of encouragement, and hug every given chance. We learned what we had in our friendships. We learned the luck it had taken to let us all fall so perfectly together, and we loved.
Year 3: As juniors, we began to grow. We managed our time and studied and made plans. We prioritized play time, making sure it was abundant as to-do lists became more prevalent in our world. We applied, to internships, jobs, secondary schools. We became leaders, earned responsibility. We fell in love, we fell out of love, we stayed in love. We drank champagne and celebrated small feats. We continued to be surprised at the depth of our friendships, the depth of our own selves. Our third year, we learned how to decide. We learned how to determine our futures, and consider our possibilities. We realized our world wasn't forever, and slowly but surely we began to try and freeze the seconds.
Year 4: As seniors, we seized the day. Carpe Diem, we threw caution to the wind and jumped into life with both feet. We went out on Wednesdays, invented excuses for no school work, and lived together in one big house. We shared closets, secrets, fears, dreams, and shoes. We laughed in the shower, went for walks, sang karaoke. We danced down the halls, played pranks, snuggled six deep on a twin bed for a story or a movie. We took over the dance floor. We arrived home, hearts a flutter, from first dates, celebrated engagements, and still drank champagne. Our friends became our sisters, our soulmates. Our fourth year, we learned how to leave. We learned that time will not stand still, that wishing hard enough does not make it happen, that the tears are inevitable. We learned to make plans outside of our bubble, plans that didn't always involve each other. We learned that we were adults, we were growing up against our wishes. Despite our protests and shouts and cries, we learned that life has to go on. We made unspoken promises to never leave each other's hearts, but we learned we couldn't stay here forever.
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