These are the days we might forget

There are moments in my life when I observe a room, a place, a person, and realize it is the last time I'll see it. I remember the last time I saw my old bedroom, its walls naked and floors clear, gray daylight subduing the sky blue paint--or the last county fair that August of 1996, when I knew in a month I'd be moving to Olympia. Soon it will be the last day I attend class with the students and teachers I've recognized for nearly four years. I know within a year many of us will have left this place, emotionally and physically. It's scary, thrilling, and relieving, all at once.

Though not much different from every other year--thousands of students pass through this institution every year, like clockwork--it is significant to those of us going through it now, and we hope to those who know us. Will we be remembered? Will we remember anyone else? Are we to be forgotten, faces in a high school yearbook gathering dust and mocked by future generations for our period haircuts and bad facial expressions?

We will change, and in exchanging present for future we lose something. For some the loss is greater than others, though most will claim to be elated they are graduating. Some aren't ready for the change, while others have been ready for what feels like forever. For everyone, I think, there is a sense of uncertainty and curiousity.

Curiousity may linger for a time after graduation. Not everyone knows each other here, but I think we may still miss even those people we don't know. A friend and I recently lamented the loss of these relationships never formed. At least for me, I know, there have been people who intrigued me--people whose very presence communicated personality and intelligence--but whom I never truly met, and I admit to having some curiousity about what will become of them. Maybe they didn't know they were noticed by anyone else. Maybe I should have told them. Maybe they wouldn't care. Maybe we'll meet again.

If we weren't the least bit curious about our classmates, we wouldn't be so interested in these senior class publications--maps of where people are going next year, wills, crushes and regrets--a safe way to have some security in knowledge without having to take the leap and get to know them. The time for that is running out, anyway.

(from The Olympus)