And so I sit in a silent house, beside a dog whose slumber is disrupted by the nearby sound of somebody’s lawnmower.
I am graduating tomorrow.
I’ve already reflected a lot, out loud and in my head about what I’ll miss and for what I’m grateful. About how far from me this day felt when, in August in 2009, I sat in the second row in a classroom in jeans and a racerback tank, quiet but smiling on my first day of grad school. Graduation, then, was a figment of my imagination.
But today I reflect on tomorrow.
On “no more pencils, no more books…”
On knowing that because I know what I know, I am gratefully obligated to modify my behavior accordingly.
On putting my world (and my closet, and my car) back together. Reorganizing. Praying more, sleeping more, drinking more water. Exercising. Socializing. Dating? Writing.
On fulfilling responsibilities.
Growing up more.
How many times I said “let’s do this!”
How great it feels finally to say “we did.”