“If Gone With the Wind has a theme it is that of survival. What makes some people come through catastrophes and others, apparently just as able, strong, and brave, go under? It happens in every upheaval. Some people survive; others don’t. What qualities are in those who fight their way through triumphantly that are lacking in those that go under? I only know that survivors used to call that quality ‘gumption.’ So I wrote about people who had gumption and people who didn’t” – Margaret Mitchell
In a way college is about gumption. Those who have it, and those who don’t. And college is a microcosm for life… “Only the strong survive”, but strength comes in different ways.
A jam-packed first week of classes finally came to an end, and it feels like a decade carefully sculpted into 7 days. I still can’t believe it was only last Friday when I moved back to BU again. Memories of Shaws grocery bags, Crispy Crepes and early Starbucks coffee are already a blur. It has not just been a week; a week could not have been that long.
Ended the week with a midnight stroll along the Charles. It’s beautiful – a bustling city’s firefly skyline engulfed by the tranquility of a river. My life is in Boston now, but like Scarlett had Tara, I have Islamabad.
(I was about to write a poem on the River Charles, but H.W Longfellow said everything I needed to say ❤ )
To the River Charles
by H.W Longfellow
River! that in silence windest
Through the meadows, bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!
Four long years of mingled feeling,
Half in rest, and half in strife,
I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.
Thou hast taught me, Silent River!
Many a lesson, deep and long;
Thou hast been a generous giver;
I can give thee but a song.
Oft in sadness and in illness,
I have watched thy current glide,
Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me, like a tide.
And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap onward with thy stream.
Not for this alone I love thee,
Nor because thy waves of blue
From celestial seas above thee
Take their own celestial hue.
Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,
And have made thy margin dear.
More than this;–thy name reminds me
Of three friends, all true and tried;
And that name, like magic, binds me
Closer, closer to thy side.
Friends my soul with joy remembers!
How like quivering flames they start,
When I fan the living embers
On the hearth-stone of my heart!
‘T is for this, thou Silent River!
That my spirit leans to thee;
Thou hast been a generous giver,
Take this idle song from me.