Back in the coupe, I aim for home. Despite the ground sirloin, bacon and ice cream in my backseat, I pull onto the hilltop shoulder just before the turn-off to the college. This perfect birds-eye view of the campus that has been my home stops my breath and heart. In the slanting afternoon sun, it’s an enchanted green isle, the rising sun-bleached steeples and towers like the turrets of a great castle, the winding roads like soft gray rivers. In twenty-five years, its beauty is undiminished. For a moment, I simply sit there, feeling a peculiar peace and stillness stealing over me and soothing my worries. I sit with my hands on the wheel, thinking of all the young women who arrived here first with trunks, then with smart hard Samsonite cases, then boxes, and monogrammed duffle bags full of hopes and dreams.