I Graduated on Saturday

I graduated.

On Saturday.

From college.

Even after writing that sentence, all dramatic-like, I don’t think I have fully comprehended the significance.

On Saturday, when I moved out, my friends of four years cried and hugged and moaned, and I could only stand there dumbly saying things like “This isn’t goodbye! It’s only see you later! Like what all those Hallmark cards say, right?” If they weren’t overcome by sadness, they probably would have punched me.

When everything was finally organized into boxes and bags (Grinch-style) we had to return our house keys. A small task, in my opinion, but to everyone else, a symbol of our final moment together. “Turn in our keys! You mean turn in our lives!” they yelled, hunched over and shivering (we had been rained on all morning during the outdoor ceremony in 49 degree weather).

“Yea, this is so awful,” I muttered along, wishing I could squeeze out a tear, or at least some of the dampness out of my hair.

So I wrapped my arms around them and hurried them along, knocking on the wrong door three different times, resulting in even greater meltdowns. “It’s a sign! We’re meant to stay here forever!”

“But the dorms close at five,” I reminded them.

I’m not completely heartless. I did try to sing “Paint With All the Colors of the Wind” (a strange reversion back to my childhood days of running around my front yard, barefoot, pretending I was Pocahontas. Is that symbolic?) as we struggled along, finally handing in our keys and watching the RD cross our names off her list. But as we walked back, I waved to a few people that I was friendly with – but not nearly at the same level as the wallowing goofballs behind me – and I felt a wave of reassurance. I wasn’t sad because I knew that I had graduated with five best friends, a stronger sense of myself, and a degree in English (it’s a thing!) and that felt good, good enough for me not to be wishing to stay in school forever.

I’m not saying I’m not going to cry a little in a month or two, or maybe even tomorrow morning in the shower, but isn’t it okay to look at life for what it is and not how we want it to be? With all of the blue corn moons and bobcats?

Disney + Moral Dilemmas = My Life


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