I went to lunch with my friend Sandy. We don’t spend much “quality” time together anymore, so it was nice to sit down and just talk with her.

Unfortunately, at such a high stress time, we talked about finals, our busy summer schedules and graduation looming over my head.

Personally, I’m not always up for change, especially this year, as I’m faced with the reality that everything changes, and at the end of the summer, I won’t be spending another year with my friends.

I was in mid-thought when she said, “You know, the first time we heard ‘Dancing Lucinda’ was a very profound moment in my life.” I had to agree, I’ll never forget that Nadas’ show two short years ago.

Then I started thinking again. In the last four years, very few things have been a stable part of my life: my family, Sandy and The Nadas. As a matter of fact, I can trace the biggest moments and my biggest growth changes through Nadas concerts.

Obsessive? Maybe. Pitiful? Maybe. But everyone has a band or song that has a special meaning to him or her.

I was first introduced to the band my freshman year when I had Spanish 101 with Jason. He probably doesn’t remember me, but I remember the first time he said, “We’re playing at People’s tonight; you should come check it out.”

Although I didn’t make it there that night, I managed to catch a show or two before the year was over. I didn’t really pay attention to the music, I thought they were cute. I refer to this as my “I’m a freshman and I just discovered that there are men outside of my pitiful hometown” phase.

This discovery led to a crazy year.

A slut? Maybe. Out of control? Maybe. But what college freshman isn’t?

It wasn’t until my sophomore year that I actually listened to the music, to the words. To this day, I remember the smell of sweat and beer in the M-Shop when The Nadas sang, “I want to be happier this time. Please tell me I’m not that way.” Sandy and I turned to each other and said, “I want to be happy.”

This would be the profound moment mentioned before. I refer to this as my “why do I exist and what purpose am I serving in this world” phase.

Manic depressant? Maybe. Too much alcohol? Maybe. Recent break-ups and beer tend not to mix well together.

My junior year, going to a Nadas’ show meant watching John play his violin for a song or two. It meant drinking Long Islands and being happy.

It also meant watching two special relationships come together and fall apart.

I even had a re-evaluation during the band’s final People’s performance that year — I was leaving for England in less than a week, and I realized that I was leaving a perfect life here. I wanted to make the moment last forever, but I knew it wouldn’t.

John made me a Nadas tape to take with me to Europe. I listened to it when I got homesick.

I like to refer to this as my “life is beautiful, enjoy your summer” phase.

A moment of clarity? Maybe. Sappy? Maybe. But definitely true.

As a senior, going to a Nadas show means something completely different to me. It means change. The shows simply aren’t the same as they used to be.

There are more people playing on stage, there are “new” people at the show, people have been known to body surf (something I didn’t know folk-rock inspired), and it means that tall frat boy that stands center stage at every show is going to annoy me.

But life is changing. Nothing will ever be the same as it used to be.

I refer to this as my “it’s time to move on” phase.

Sad? Maybe. Scary? Maybe. But what isn’t?

On April 4, the last time The Nadas played at the M-Shop, I turned to Sandy and said, “Well, this is our last time to see The Nadas at the M-Shop together.” We were a little sad, but then we started to remember all the fun and memories we have shared at their shows.

I also realized something — all these phases and changes in my life have made me the person I am now, and I am happy.

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Heather McClure is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Harlan.