I have never known life without the Aggie Ring. As the daughter of two of the loudest and proudest members of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie classes of ‘94 and ‘96, the importance of a small loop of gold (or silver!) has not been lost on me.
Whether it was in New York, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina or Indiana, the Aggie Ring would connect my parents to people, like some magical friendship magnet.
As a young child, the decision was obvious. I’m a Texan by birth and an Aggie by the grace of God. I’d see the Fightin’ Texas Aggie Band on Saturdays, get coffee with Dr. Richard Golsan, pass by the dome of the Academic Building on the way to class and eventually get my own piece of Aggie legacy in the form of my ring.
But, as most things are, this decision was more complicated by the time I reached the end of high school. I had dreams of moving out of College Station, where I had spent five years of my life, forging my own path and wanting to become a music teacher.
Fate had other plans.
I soon learned that no matter how many tears I shed, that wouldn’t change the resounding “no” from each music program I applied to. By the end of April 2019, I had two options: Texas A&M University or Indiana University.
I chose Indiana.
I packed up, moved to the Midwest and put on my biggest smile. I joined the Marching Hundred Band, trying to keep the music in my life. I made friends, joined organizations and made a space for myself on campus.
Still, something didn’t feel right.
I needed to go home. Back to Aggieland.
I had so many questions: Was I doing the right thing? Was I just scared? Would I grow to feel at home in Indiana? I’ve moved so many times, why did this feel so different?
When I came back for winter break of freshman year, I saw West Campus on the ride from the airport, and cried. Never had I been so happy to see the brutalist architecture and tan shade of campus.
Fast forward, six long months, a “Spring Break” that lasted the rest of the semester and a million page refreshes. A&M wanted me back too.
So for me, this ring is so much more than my time in College Station. It’s every hard decision I had to make, every tear I shed, every question I asked and every other vision I had for my life, every time I doubted myself.
Despite the pain, anxiety medications, ADHD diagnoses, long nights, lessons learned the hard way, I wouldn’t have — and couldn’t have — done it any other way.
I’m home, in the Visitor Center with the Howdy Crew, at Reed Arena with the Hullabaloo Band and most importantly, in the Batt Cave, with all the names you spot on bylines across the publication.
To my parents, who always knew I would be an Aggie, to my siblings who were as excited about me being an Aggie as I was, to my grandparents, especially Moggie for her enthusiasm over being an Aggie grandma, and all of my friends in College Station, Indiana and everywhere else: Thank you for your unending love and support.
I once believed love would be burning red, but it’s golden.
Michaela Rush is an English junior and News editor for The Battalion.