“And I’d relive all the years
And be thankful for the tears
I’ve cried with every stumbled step
That led to you, and got me here, right here”
-Rascal Flatts




















Mitch Goodfield cried. She was gone. She was off to college in New Hampshire to study nursing. It seemed like only yesterday that he had rung up her order at Shaw’s and met up with her again at the Wakefield tennis courts to play. Her name was Clara Wyclef. She was from Beverly originally, but she was staying with her grandparents in Wakefield for the summer. They became fast friends through playing tennis, and walking the trails of Breakheart Reservation. She was a girl of vast intellect and intelligence, loved nature, was avid fan of country music, as well as the most down to earth person Mitch had ever met in his life. She cared about the world outside of herself. These qualities meant only good things. Mitch spent as much time with Clara as he could that summer, and she spent as much time as she could with him. Her grandparent’s pool was a regular spot for them for her grandparent’s house was a short walk up the street from his house, as well as the tennis courts and Breakheart. All that came to a end in late August.
St. Anselm College in Manchester, New Hampshire was where Clara would be attending nursing school. Mitch had applied there his senior year, and got in as well as other schools such as Endicott, Suffolk, UMass Lowell, and UMass Dartmouth. However, his parents thought he was too immature to go to any of them. In their eyes, North Shore Community College in Danvers was his only option. He would spend a year or two there “cooking” as his mother would say, before he would go to a four year school. However, despite his rage against his parents, he was happy for Clara. Clara told him not to worry about going to community college. “Mitch, you are not lesser of a person because you are going there,” she said. “I know, but I want to go to a four year school and get out of Wakefield.” Clara gave him a hug. “I am really going to miss you Mitch,” she said as a tear rolled down her face. Her blonde hair blew in the breeze. Mitch looked into her blue eyes. “You are a great friend, and this has been a great summer.” “Let’s keep in touch,” he said.
Clara’s mother pulled up in front of her grandparent’s house in a silver BMW. Her grandparents came rushing out to greet her. Clara introduced her to Mitch. “Hi Mitch!” her mother said. Mitch extended his hand. “Nice to meet you Mrs. Wyclef,” he said. Mrs. Wyclef asked both of them how the summer went for she and Mr. Wyclef had been in the Dominican Republic for a good part of it. “Great,” they both replied. After talking with them for a little while about what she and Mr. Wyclef did in the Dominican Republic, Both Clara and her mother got ready to leave. Clara gave Mitch another hug. “Good luck,” he said. “Good luck to you too,” she replied. Then, she drove away.
Tears upon tears upon tears followed Clara’s departure. Mitch never was able to tell her the very important thing he wanted to tell her all summer; the fact that he loved her. He felt as if he had “friend zoned” himself by not telling her. He did not realize he was in love until she went away. It was September, and he had just started school at NSCC. He did not hate it. He had met a few people in the first few days that had the potential to become friends. After a few months, they did. However, the endless cycle of school, work, school, work, maybe hang out on a Friday night, school, and work was getting to him. He missed Clara. His heart still ached over her. He wanted so much to be at St. Anselm.
They texted and called each other every week. Clara was enjoying herself at St. A’s. She told Mitch that it was up on a hilltop, the buildings were of Gothic architecture, and Benedictine priests were a regular sight on campus. “How’s North Shore?” she asked him. “Decent,” Mitch responded. Clara was happy to hear that Mitch was managing okay. “I hope after a year or two I can come to St. A’s,” he said. “That would be great!” Clara said. “There is so much to do on campus!” Clara told him about all the different clubs. She became involved in intramural athletics as well as College Democrats, and the Sociology Club. She was managing the course load for nursing extremely well. “How is your Business Administration course load?” “It is fine, lots of accounting courses to take.” “I miss you,” he said. “I miss you too,” she said. “You should come up to campus one of these days and we can hang out.” “Yeah definitely,” he said.
Shaw’s Supermarkets had a way of making sure Mitch did not have a life outside the grocery store. Mitch often wondered why he had to work so much. His family was upper middle class. His father owned his own accounting firm. He often wondered why he had to take “the poor man’s route” to college and life while he sported J Crew and Ralph Lauren at school. Oh yes, community college was a humbling experience for Mitch. Working twenty hours a week, doing homework, and barely having enough time to spend with the friends he made at NSCC. His heart was still aching over Clara. He prayed every night that he would be with her someday.
The year ended on a good note. Mitch’s parents had seen an improvement in Mitch both academically and socially. They let him apply to St. Anselm. Once again, he got in. That August, he entered as a sophomore. As he moved into his dorm, he met his roommate Tom. They became fast friends. When his parents left, he decided to take a walk around campus. He breathed the air of St. A’s. As he was walking, he noticed a girl looking out one of the residence hall windows. It was Clara. She looked out and saw Mitch in his St. Anselm t-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. She came rushing out to greet him. “Sorry I never was able to make it up to campus, but I have something to tell you.” “I have something to tell you too,” she said. “I love you,” they both said. Mitch ran his fingers through Clara’s hair. They kissed passionately. Their love would never again be separated by the difference in academic institutions. Mitch was there, finally.

The End