It feels surreal to write this now with graduation looming just months away. I can still hear Mr. Atkinson’s words from our senior retreat echoing in my mind: “It will be here before you know it.” How right he was. Soon I’ll be walking across that stage, diploma in hand, and then almost immediately packing my bags for football camp at Duke.
The speed at which these 12 years have flown by is disorienting. Sometimes I find myself lost in memories: struggling with times tables in Mrs. Brooms’ class, the excitement of collecting cards with friends in Mr. Jordan’s room, learning organization skills from Ms. Jenkins that I still use today and discovering poetry in Dr. Brozovich’s class. Each teacher, each classroom, each year built upon the last to create this tapestry of experiences.
Even now, in these final weeks, we’re still creating memories. Senior assassin brings both laughter and paranoia as we hunt each other down with water guns. I’ve been jumping at shadows and eyeing water bottles suspiciously, wondering if today’s the day I’ll get eliminated. These moments feel especially precious knowing how numbered they are. The reality of adulthood weighs on me some days. In just a few months, I’ll shed this identity as a “kid” in many ways. No parents just a short drive away, no familiar house to return to when things get tough. Everything will fall on my shoulders in a new state, surrounded by new people and new expectations. I’ll have to manage my own schedule, my own meals, my own laundry, all while adjusting to college-level football practices and classes. It’s daunting to think about the responsibility, the distance, the unknowns that await me.
Just yesterday, I was driving home from practice and realized that soon this familiar route, past the church, the corner store where I would buy candy after school, the park where we spent countless summer days, would become a memory rather than my daily reality. It hit me harder than I expected.
But beneath the anxiety, there’s excitement too. This is what all those years of learning and growing were preparing me for. The late nights studying, the early morning practices, the friendships forged through shared struggles and triumphs, all of it was building toward this moment of transition. I’m ready for this next chapter, even with its challenges.
For now, though, I’m making a conscious effort to be present. To absorb every moment with friends who’ve been by my side through countless school days. To appreciate family dinners that will soon be infrequent.
The clock is ticking down on this chapter of my life, but I’m determined not to miss a single page before it closes. Two more months to be a kid, then a lifetime to remember what that felt like. It’s scary and thrilling all at once which I guess is exactly how growing up is supposed to feel.
