Thursday, May 5, 2011

Promise me that there will be high-fives all around, tonight, tomorrow, and the day after

Holy mother of canolis! Today I turned in my final two essays of my undergraduate career, and I feel lighter and shakier. I did not foresee feeling this strange until a few days after graduation, when my family had retreated, and my friends starting leaving, one by one, off to open new doors with eskimo kisses. There was something odd about today, printing out my last papers in the library, saying conditional goodbyes to a couple of my teachers, and discussing summer plans with those people who are more than acquaintances, but not really friends.

Luckily, though, tonight I went to my friend's family's home out on Sullivan's Island, and as the reds and blues sandwiched together behind the Ravenel Bridge around 7:30pm, and we tore at spicy crayfish like each next one might contain the Golden Ticket, I felt alright about the future being undefined for me. 

When you are surrounded by warmth, anxiety about the unknown tiptoes away. Some people are uncomfortable and nervous when you tell them you don't know what you will be "doing" in three months, but there are a few inspiring people who give you a real high-five when you tell them you don't have a return ticket from the West Coast. These people are the ones we need: they spread us open and share their hope with us.


Sanaz Arjomand said...


Daddle said...

Guess I shouldn't bug you about your plans..only to say, nice blog and you go girl!