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The Finish Line Never Felt So Soft

December 22, 2015


On the morning of my last day of school, I threw my comforter and bed sheet in the washer and dryer. I fluffed them out, laid them down and made my bed for the first time in days. I stacked two rows of pillows upright against the bed frame and lined them up side-by-side. The next time I lie in this bed, I thought, I will no longer be tossing and turning as a graduate student: I will be nestled and tucked in as a USC Annenberg alumna.


When people ask how this accomplishment makes me feel, I say it makes me feel satisfied, but satisfaction takes on many forms.


So if satisfaction had a taste, it would taste smooth and refreshing, like a cold beverage straight out of a cooler on a sweltering summer day or a tall glass of Pilsner to wash down a savory snack. If it had a texture, it would feel weightless and airy like cotton balls. If it made noise it would sound like lilting wind chimes. If it had a face it would wear a toothy grin that is impossible to erase.


And if it had a scent, it would smell like fresh laundry.

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