hello, good friend

I knew it. Called it a week ago. Someone asked me if I felt upset about graduating and I said, “Nah.” How nonchalant. Then I said “For me, these events rarely register until long after they’ve occurred.” Not until I return home, not until life slows, not until my mind mulls over them do I feel any…thing. Well, folks, today is the long awaited day.

Today I packed up my life in boxes (that’s becoming a generational catch phrase. cute.) and loaded life in a trusty Penske hauler. Thanks to my siblings and parents, of course. In the past six days they have unpacked one apartment, loaded its contents, transported said contents home, unpacked, organized, then packed up my room - plus accumulated first apartment belongings - and loaded the sum total into a moving van. My possessions are nomads.

I’ve also spent the past week on the road. Only two days since graduation haven’t involved endless car hours. Tomorrow we will arise at 5 a.m. for Baltimore and yet again tackle the highways.

You know, graduation wasn’t sappy sad. Or, it wasn’t sad for the usual reasons. Post-graduation day found most of our friends reunited in Ocean City, New Jersey. After our mini-vacation ended, we didn’t part with emotional goodbyes because, as our friends remind us, they’ll see us at the wedding. (A good thing, Jon and I figure. By that point we’ll need a reconvening.) To tell the truth, I’ve only been friend-absent for two days. Today: the initial pangs of separation anxiety.

I give in. I concede. This is sad.

All I did was step over a finish line. It’s just paint. All I did was say a few words. It’s just a ring. All I did was walk across a stage. It’s just a piece of paper. All I did was finish four years of course work. . .?

Today is a turning-point day. Today is a turning-point day, but it finds me bleary-eyed, hazily passing the morning with eyes half-open, or half-shut. Yesterday I turned in my last final exam of my undergraduate career. I’m not usually one for sentimentality, but that was pretty sweet. Somehow I don’t feel alert enough to enjoy it.

Today I awake exhausted and hurried. Pack the car for the drive home. My youngest brother graduates from high school tomorrow. My roommates are gone, taking their remaining finals. The quiet unnerves me.

Isn’t it amazing that significant moments like these pass quietly, subtly, unnoticed? Their weight hangs in the silence - barely audible, but unbearably heavy. I am notorious for missing them. Or ignoring them. Two days ago a camera-armed friend chuckled at my cynical photo-resistant self, “Just remember to savor it!” I apologized for my sleeveworn apathy.

Last night we celebrated my best friend’s 22nd birthday. Four years ago, when we celebrated her 19th, we colored the sidewalks from Lottie to Witmer with chalk messages. For complicated reasons, we laughed when Rica accidentally typed “Happy Birthday Hola” instead of “Happy Birthday, Holla” on the 20+ birthday banners we were to post around campus. We posted them anyway. In the pre-dawn hours, we piggy-back-raced to the dorm, and the Fuzzy-Bryce team performed the most dramatically entertaining, unintentional tumble/spill/collapse of any two grown men I have ever seen in my life. We rolled in the grass, cackling, for unending moments. Kate says it was one of the funniest events of college, maybe of life. Ever.

Last night, singing “Happy Birthday, FrannyTrousers” was, as Kristel says, a full-circle moment. Fran will body slam me for writing this, but the only thing missing was a choclate Easter cross thrown at my face. And maybe a WalMart run complete with a AAA man and his hyperactive labrador.

I’m not sure how these moments acquire significance. They occur seemingly arbitrarily. Taking up time, just as brushing teeth and showering take up time. But they hang weighty, Christmas tree branches laden with the heavier ornaments.

I want to experience them alert, with both eyes open.