For the past week I’ve had this feeling like I have forgotten something. It gets worse and worse everyday. It’s one of those feelings that gives me knots in my gut, and I have been trying to figure out what is causing it. I have checked off everything on my anxiety list: paid all my bills this month, replaced my car tires, bought my plane ticket to visit my dad, so on and so forth. Then I had a dream that explained it.

It was the first day of fall semester and I had just moved all my clothes into the dorm. I had not bought my books yet, but I never buy them until a couple days in to the class anyway. It was 8 a.m., and I was already late for my first class. I got out of bed, threw on the first thing I could grab and ran out of the door. It wasn’t until I was half way across the Grove that I realized I hadn’t signed up for any classes. My dream ended as I was being escorted off campus by the University Police Department.

Every year around this time since preschool, I have started the first day of school. For 23 years I have been in a class in front of a teacher. It’s a strange feeling to hear my friends talk about their professors and see all the Brookhaven High School traffic congesting the streets on the students’ morning rush to class. It’s a little depressing to know that I am done with my childhood.

I don’t think anybody ever wants to grow up, or at least not beyond the age of 21. Spending my days talking to friends and learning has defined my life, and I absolutely loved that. While immersed in the school experience, the days seem to last forever. It isn’t until you have to grow up that you realize that those years felt like they whizzed by in a jumble of memory highlights – like playing basketball at my preschool with Cody, going to soccer tournaments and shooting spitballs with my teammates in McAlister’s, or going out every night to the Square with my best friend Andrea. They are the moments in which I wish I could somehow still be, but tragically I have yet to build my time machine.

Not going to school this fall has finally made me realize that I am no longer a child. Who knew that I would ever be considered an adult? I like the most dreaded substance of my childhood: blue cheese. One of my favorite radio stations is NPR, and I can now call 40-year-olds by their first name without being considered rude. I am a different person.

I will always be defined by some of my childhood traits. I will always scream the Hotty Toddy cheer when someone yells ‘Are you ready?’, I will always hate green beans, and Disney World will always be a magical place.

I won’t lie – the adult world is a little scary. All of the sudden I have twice as much responsibility, but I’m actually OK with it. I will be starting a new chapter in my life. I was pushed out of my Oxford nest and shockingly am able to fly on my own. I can do what I want when I want.

This fall I am enrolled in the freshman year of my adult life, and even though I’m not sitting in an actual classroom, this year will teach me some of the greatest lessons of my life. Maybe I can sleep better now.

Katie Williamson is a news reporter for The Daily Leader. Contact her at katie.williamson@dailyleader.com.