As the middle of December approached it became harder and harder to concentrate on anything while I waited for my Early Action letter from the University of Notre Dame to arrive. Since the school only said to expect the decision in mid-December, and didn't give a definite date, I constantly rushed home from school not knowing what to expect in the mailbox.
Every day, as I sat through my classes, I grew more and more nervous, wondering if my fate would be waiting for me when I got home. When December 15th, the date on which most of my friends were receiving their early decision results, finally approached, I assumed that I would get my decision too.
I was shaking as I drove home from school, and it probably wasn't safe for me to be on the road. Looking back now, I think it is ridiculous that a simple letter could have impacted me so much. When I at last reached my mailbox, I looked in to see that there were no big envelopes. My heart sank. I brought the mail into the house praying that my letter hadn't come yet, because, if it had, I knew it would have been a rejection. One by one I went through the envelopes, terrified that I might see the Notre Dame seal. I didn't. I still had a chance.
I decided that giving myself an ulcer from worrying wouldn't be a good way to start my winter break, so I called the Office of Admissions to ask them when they sent the letters. I was told that they were sent on the 14th, so I knew that my decision would reach my house the next day.
For some reason that Friday I wasn't quite as nervous as I had been throughout the week. I got through the early part of the day by keeping my mind distracted with other nonsense, but, when 7th and 8th period eventually came around, I couldn't think about anything beside that letter. Luckily my 8th hour teacher let me leave early so I could beat the traffic out of the parking lot (I can't imagine what I would have done having to sit in the usual 15-minute traffic jam knowing that my decision was only a mile away).
I wasn't shaking this time, but rather my nervousness was replaced with a sort of eerie calm. There was no traffic on the drive home, and I only hit green lights - I was feeling good. When I pulled up onto my driveway, I slowly got out of the car and walked to my mailbox. I took a deep breath, and I opened it - I couldn't see any large envelopes. My heart dropped again. I stuck my hand in and grabbed the stack of mail once again praying that the letter for some reason hadn't come.
As I walked up my driveway towards the house, I realized that there were a few larger pieces of mail that I hadn't noticed when I first looked. I gradually sifted through the pile, and I saw just a glimpse of the Golden Dome in the corner of an envelope. My decision was here. I waited until I got inside to look to see if the envelope was big or small, afraid of collapsing on the driveway. I sat down at the kitchen table, and moved the rest of the mail to the side. It was big.
I disregarded my cautious attitude and recklessly ripped it open, only being focused enough to see the first word in the letter - "Congratulations!" I didn't know what to do - should I have screamed or cried with joy? I sat at the kitchen table thinking about all of the hard work I had done to get to this point, and how excited I was to be able to head off to South Bend this upcoming fall.
I had done it. I was going to college.