Highway run Into the midnight sun Wheels go round and round...

The night I turned 16 (or closely thereafter) I remember having a conversation with my grandmother about how BYU always felt like home to her. I brushed it off, and thought she was just being overly sentimental, but 6 years later I have a different perspective.
My family is true blue through and through. I am a third generation BYU graduate, I hope to send my children to school here, and to torture my grandchildren with stories about my time at the “Y”. I grew up on stories about President Wilkinson, 8 hour days in the testing center, and professors with names like “Helaman Fergusson”. My grandmother attended BYU as a convert and a divorcee in the 1960’s, my parents attended school here during the glory days of Lavell Edwards and BYU football, and I followed in their footsteps. I ate in the Cannon Center, the Morris Center, participated in “tunnel singing”, wrote a missionary, married after my sophomore year, and lived at Wymount. I came to BYU believing I knew it all, believing that I knew more than the “Utah Mormons”, and the “Provo brats” that drove the 6 miles from their parents homes to campus, after all I was from California, I graduated near the top of my class, and I knew what I was going to be when I grew up. I came to BYU believing that my time here would limit my future, believing that BYU would take me farther from my goals, and that more than anything attending school here would make my parents believe that I had finally given in. In reality BYU has opened more doors than I could have ever imagined, I married a “Utah Mormon”, and some of my close friends went to Timpview, I know what I want to be when I grow up- something that I would have never learned had I attended school somewhere else, and in all reality my parents were right, BYU was where I needed to be. Someone asked me recently why I decided to attend school here, and after thinking about it. My answer is simple- it felt right. I visited BYU (and Utah) just once before moving here for school, my dad thought I should see campus before coming out for school- we drove out for spring break and spent time walking around the campus. Sadly, I have to admit that within 5 minutes of walking around campus I knew that this was the place for me. I remember standing between the library and the ASB and thinking, “Crap, how am I going to tell my parents that this is where I want to go to school!”. I remember going home (with my new BYU wardrobe) and being questioned by my high school friends about the decision I made, and arriving the first night freshman year in the dorms, and thinking that this is where I was supposed to be. After 5 years and one and half degrees I finally agree with my grandmother- BYU is home.

*can you name the song that the title of this post came from? Hint: it is NOT a country song.