Friday, September 21, 2012
I went to Branksome Hall with my twin for our last year of high school when our parents had moved to England. Contrary to our concerns, Branksome and the boarders welcomed us warmly, and we are still friends with many of those girls today. More than from our other high school – the regular one we attended for years and loved too.
Branksome is where we became city girls, and learned to think about the globe, act in plays that felt like professional productions, and debate. I believe my average jumped 16% just from the nightly required two and half hours of study. I got into every university I applied to. And I attended no less than 5 formals/proms in gorgeous dresses thrust upon me by my generous roommates.
Branksome belongs to that mystical time when we eased out of girlhood, but not too quickly. Since then, I've loved any drive down Mount Pleasant where I could point out the window of our old room, which we had kept open all year and learned to let the roar of traffic lull us to sleep. It’s vanished now, along with the luggage room and the trunk of books I left down there, always thinking I would go back one day and collect them. I know they are building something new and wonderful, but I will miss that window to the world.