When I get nervous, I make jokes. Today is no different. It’s the first week of my last year of college and I'm surrounded by about thirty people, most of whom I've never met before. We’re walking to Oak Street Beach.

Sunday’s final minutes find us on the floor. Our only companions are the three cups resting alongside us, small pools of tea cradling limp bags, and our door is freshly shut, leaving my roommate and I alone among the echoes of what has been said.

It’s a beautiful evening to watch the rain. From my vantage point on the screened-in porch, I see heady coneflowers drunk with the falling water, breathe in the clean earthiness coming from the wood...and watch about sixteen miserable cats try to find shelter from the wet.