When my sister graduated from high school two years ago, I finally realized what big a pain change really is. As she put on her cap and gown, she
covered up her juvenility and all of the experiences she had with it. Only then did I realize that people and places come in and out of life. I wondered if in ten years I will remember the
classroom I had chemistry in or the kid I sat next to in Spanish. More painfully, I wonder if I will remember my friends and the time we shared together.
Now that it is time for me to cover my youth with a cap and gown, the predominant
thought on my mind is how much of it really mattered.
In movies, the most sentimental and nostalgic moments are paired with the
warmest, most lyric song in a montage of true, unrelenting sentiment. So I think, if my life were a movie, what song would it be played to? A euphoric one that reminds me of all the good times, or
a melancholy one that makes me wish I had them back again? And what pieces of my life would play? The one’s I’ll miss most, I think.
I am going to miss the rainy days that forced us to huddle up in a dimly lit
classroom, giggling and gossiping about the cutie across the room. I am going to miss hanging around campus after school just to hang out with my friends, and being shoed away by campus security. I
am going to miss dresses in the mornings; the cool breeze contrasted with the warm patches of sun created a comfort thus far unmatched. I am going to miss driving in the mornings and enjoying the
passersby as they continue their daily lives in hope of something special.
Yet, these are the people I admire most. These established persons who, unlike this high school
nostalgic, have already dealt with the changes they’ll experience. I am heartsick that the world has to change; our lives seem so quaint as they are. We become comfortable with the people we
immerse ourselves with, we learn the fastest way to school and exactly what minute are alarm clocks need to be set for; most of all, we learn how to be happy. Isn’t that all we ever seek in life?
We have finally learned to adjust to our surroundings and, just like that, they are pulled out from under us. We will never get a chance to talk to that cutie across the room or ask security if we
can stay another five minutes. There won’t be another opportunity to experience the beauty of the mornings behind the mountains, and we won’t ever be able to see every face of every person from the
little town we grew up in.
As much as this makes me want to tie myself to the library door, to freeze time
so I won’t have to loose these precious moments, I know it would be unfair to keep all the wonderful people here from the lives that await them. I too have something ahead, although I can’t yet
make out what it is. I do know that as long as I appreciate my future experiences as much I appreciate the time spent in my peaceful, vibrant school, I will enjoy anything else I submerge myself
in. I am a lucky individual who has already learned that the secret to happiness is to not let the moments slip away, but to love them as they happen. Even though I didn’t follow this rule during
high school, I know that for the next chapters in my life, as long as I cherish the moment, I won’t have a reason to not love being alive.
Maybe, then, this is the part of my life that should be played to a tune of
bliss: I am sitting in the bleachers, wearing a dress that I have to hold against my legs, the gusty wind threatens to blow it up. The bleachers are cold and hard, but the smiles on the faces of
all the parents radiate comfort and warmth. As music begins, the graduating class of 2008 walks nervously down the track and I am just ale to make out my sister among the hundreds of other faces. I
can see her laughing and joking with her friends, and I realize that in 3 months, she won’t be there to drive me to school. All those students will be dispersed around the county and I will still
be here, learning and working, smiling and thinking, loving and hating. But right here, right now, I am okay with that, okay that I won’t be able to join them; because in June of 2010, it will be
me on that track and some other high school nostalgic will be watching my class walk by and she too will know not to overlook the perfect moments. They are there, you just have to identify
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