The Teenage Girl Aesthetic, USA

 

The teenage girl dreamer sits by her windowsill and waits for the day when a snow-white owl will come slicing through the sky, cawing only minutely because of the parchment in its mouth, and she’ll grab the little paper with such tangible excitement that she’ll forget to pay the owl for its delivery. Only when the owl consistently pecks her on the head does she take a few gold coins from the inside of her cardigan pocket and slides them into a small compartment tied to the owl’s feet. Then the bird will take off, and she’ll accidentally rip the paper in sheer anticipation, and only then will all her skeptical beliefs and dreams of Hogwarts be confirmed.

I was that teenage girl aesthetic. No, I did not waste my nights waiting for Hedwig to appear, even if I did print a fake Hogwarts acceptance letter from the Internet. Yes, I lived in the dreams and fantasies of my so-called “dream” life, and I only emerged when reality’s constant knocking on my door forced me to grow up. That is, until I found my real-life childhood fantasy setting and had to reread the Harry Potter series surrounded by deep feelings of nostalgia.

I visited Princeton University on a cold, snowy day. Being from California, I was not prepared for the immensity of snow that stung my face, and my “winter” jacket did no good. Instead I clung to my umbrella, probably the first time I had used it in a year, as I walked on grand stoneways and under tall dome-shaped arches and past iron-gothic fences. I marveled at the high-rising towers on which little stone gargoyles and other angelic figures sat. With the snow frosting the grass in a powdery-white glaze, and the golden texture of each brick giving the place a medieval feel, I could see myself here for the next four years of my life. On a bitter winter day like this, I would take my Multivariable Calculus textbook and notes, grab a steaming cup of hot chocolate from the local coffee campus store, and settle down in a small, quaint library with the books neatly shelved and the room lit by fire and lamplight.

Yes, Princeton University had lodged itself right underneath my heart and I could do nothing about it. It had that old-fashioned and dark gothic architectural feel that I’d always been addicted to, with the baby blue sky perfectly accentuating each slate-gray castle and Roman-numeral clocks chanting a slow tune at the turn of the hour. This is where I wanted to further my education; this is where I would mature and grow up, yet still feel as if I had never left my childhood.

Maybe my view of Princeton was slightly romanticized by the magic I had believed in as a kid, but even so, Princeton captured my eyes and my heart in mere seconds of my visit. Princeton University was my adult Hogwarts. Here, I was a child again, and I was home.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

Gratitude Travel Writing Contest

We hope you enjoyed this entry in the We Said Go Travel Gratitude Writing Contest. Please visit this page to learn more and participate. Thank you for reading the article and please leave a comment below.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

We Said Go Travel