Graduation, and letting go Options

[angelrevelation]

This was a short story I'd written for school. We were supposed to write a story showing conflict that was similar to the girl in "Marigolds" by Eugenia Collier. I'm not graduating or anything, but I was inspired just by how the school year is ending soon.

This is a rough draft, so there are some mistakes. But, I just thought I'd share it.


When I was growing up, I’d always hated change. As a child, I would be terrified of being left alone with anyone other than my parents. I distinctly remember throwing tantrums in pre-school, hitting kids with blocks and such in the midst of them. When I transferred from elementary to junior high, and then from junior high to high school, it always took me forever to transition. There were too many things I had to re-learn and adjust to – larger buildings, weird teachers, and very large people who I had to dodge everyday to get to class. I missed the memories I’d made in the familiar hallways. Looking back on my senior year, I remember the sense of dread. Memories of all my school experiences kept on coming to my mind again and again, as I realized that I would be seeing many of these people for the last time. It was as if I was on a roller coaster and just waiting for the steep plunge to come.
The last year of my high school experience was coming to a close. The cap-and-gown graduation ceremony was in a few days, and I was trying to save every little memory that I could. However, the more I kept willing the day to stay back, it seemed to sneak up on me all the more faster.

Snap, whirr… With a bright flash the camera went off as I pressed the button.
“No pictures Caroline!” my friend Natalie yelped. “I wasn’t ready!” I laughed, sitting down at our usual table in the cafeteria. I ignored my friends’ protests as well as the people who were staring at us, figuring out where the sudden flash of light had come from. Alexis, the perfectionist, took my camera and looked at how the picture turned out.
“Please delete it. I look horrible.” she groaned. The rest of us - Natalie, Fletcher, Hayden and I, peered at the picture over her shoulder. I grinned at how it had turned out. Natalie was taking a bite out of her pizza and the cheese was stretching out, Alexis was in mid-hand gesture, Hayden was twirling his pencil as he stared at his homework that was due the next period, and Fletcher’s mouth was half open as he was taken surprise by the camera.
“No way, it’s great.” I smiled. It’s real. I thought. What better way to remember my friends than an imperfect moment? I took my camera back and started flipping through some pictures I’d taken earlier. There was one of random people walking to class, one of Mr. Doherty’s strange souvenir ridden desk, a sneak picture of one of the cutest boys in our grade—
“So Caroline,” Hayden started. “Have you decided to have that going-away party?”
I quickly lost my cheerful mood.
“The one before I go to USC? Umm… yeah, but it’s not for another month.” I said, trying to make it sound less final. The hand on my internal timer seemed to jump one notch forward. I was going to be the first one of us to leave for college.
Alexis sighed.
“New York is going to be amazing.” she repeated for the millionth time after she received her acceptance letter to NYU.
“I can’t believe we’re all separating.” Natalie said in a sad-but-anticipated way. My throat tightened. Don’t say that.
“And I’m staying here.” Fletcher whined. “All you guys get to go travel and be on your own. My parents are going to be visiting me at my dorm every weekend, I bet you. You’re so lucky that you get to see totally different cities--”
“Fletcher, please.” I snapped. My chest was getting that sore, anxious feeling again. “It isn’t all fun and adventure, okay?”
Everyone looked at me warily for a moment.
“Are you still scared about leaving?” Natalie asked, her usual concerned self. “You know that we’ll all keep in touch… And we can visit each other during breaks. And you’ll make lots of friends, and you’ll meet some great California guy…” Please don’t remind me about him… “It won’t be that bad Cary, you’ll see. College is independence, freedom! Just think of--”
It was the usual scripted speech I’d heard before. It was what I’d kept on telling myself, but not believing. ‘The speech’ was the kind of jargon that people came up with when they wanted to make you feel better about your silly worries by pretending to be wise and optimistic. Instead of setting my mind at ease, it just stirred up old recollections.
I became silent, letting my friends quickly adjust back into their carefree chatter about their summer plans and such. Meanwhile, flashbacks of the previous year played back nostalgically, fleeting and yet somehow slowly, like an old dusty black and white projected film. Airplanes predominantly filled my mind, along with the cool summer breeze and slow car rides, and the feeling of a hand in mine.


“Elizabeth Lacey .” Ralph, the class president, read off. A whole bunch of people cheered as Elizabeth walked up to the stage, accepted her diploma, and took a wide grinning picture with the principal. Hayden was the only person left in front of me. It’s almost my turn. I thought frantically. My stomach was as twisted as my robes were from my fidgeting. The tassle on my hat dangled in front of my face mockingly. Hayden gave me a tight smile as I squeezed his hand.
The look on his face surprised me. It was the first time he had ever looked nervous about graduating, ever. He had not looked phased when talking about college, moving, changes… But he did at that moment, have a furrow in his brow, and a glisten in his bright eyes.
At that moment, I realized, perhaps my friends really were just as uneasy and anxious as I was about the future, about leaving the past behind. I wasn’t alone in this journey. What made me suddenly ashamed was that I had not realized this earlier, and had not been there for my friends as they had been for me.
“Hayden ‘Denny’ Lancaster.” His name was called. I smiled to myself at the reference to the nickname Hayden had had since second grade. Tears welled up in my eyes as we gave each other a crushing hugged.
“Go get ‘em.” I whispered in his ear. “I’m right behind you.”
I hurrahed him joyfully as he took his diploma and picture. I was still nervous, as it was my turn next, but a calm had settled in me. I was ready for this.
“Caroline Lindvall.” The past affected me greatly, and it still would as long as I remembered it, but at that moment, as I took the platform, I smiled, grateful for it. Time slowed. My hand shook as the scroll was placed in my hand, but I made my way to the principal, shook her hand, and smiled for the photographer. The bright flash filled my eyes, blinding me for a moment. It made me think of all the pictures I had taken in the last month to hoard the last bit of ‘childhood’ I had left. But as I exited backstage, I had another realization – maybe the beauty of memories is not that they follow you, but that you leave them alone and remember them as they truly were. Photographs would perhaps fade in time, and maybe I would even forget names and faces as I got older, but I was sure that the beautiful experiences I had at that vital time in my life would leave permanent footprints I would be without.

Why am I thinking about graduation after all these years? I came across an old shoebox full of the pictures I had taken so desperately. I smile fondly now, picking up the picture of my friends at the cafeteria table. There were people in the background I did not recognize, some I did… I have lost touch with Alexis and Hayden, and only send rare letters a few times a year to Natalie and Fletcher, maybe sending a Christmas or birthday card now and again. But as I look at this photograph, I can recall them exactly as they were, exactly how imperfect and yet seamless how they fit into my life, then, and even now.

Maybe letting go does not mean saying goodbye to the memories. It does not betray the people in your past by not thinking about them everyday, or not painfully recalling old times, as important as they were at the time. Maybe letting just means putting life away in pieces of memory, like photographs, and remembering them as a good thing, being grateful for them, and accepting how they have changed you. Maybe letting go is growing up.