The day had finally arrived. High school graduation of the class of 199- something. After working long and hard for four years, we were still forced to get up and report to "graduation practice". Graduation practice is just a fancy name for playing in the grass for two hours and spending one last day with those 300 kids we had grown up with. But there we were, waiting to find out where to go and what to do so we wouldn't make asses out of ourselves that night.
What's destined for the class of ninety-something? That was a question for the next day, but not for today. We're graduating today. We found out what the summer held for each other. Some of us were going on trips to celebrate graduation, others were going to college early, and others still were getting jobs for the summer. Three hundred seniors stood around in the football stadium that day. It might have seemed deserted, but the anxiety in those seniors filled up that football field. We signed yearbooks with phrases like "Keep in touch" and "Don't go changing" and "Sorry we didn't get to know each other better." Years later, we'll look back at those yearbooks and realize the lies and broken promises we wrote that day.
Four years we were all together. Some even before that, in junior high. We had witnessed all the changes, from pre-pubescent splendor to the glories of adolescence. We lived through the embarrassing moments in English class, passing notes to best friends, and fights with boyfriends in the hall. All those memories boiled down to that one final day.
A day to ponder all those moments. A day to be reminded of the people we had lost over those four years. Best friends who moved away to other cities, other states. Maybe a close acquaintance was forced to drop out to get a job and raise of couple of kids. A few of our classmates had even died along the way. But there we were, three hundred seniors still standing strong. We had gotten this far and there was no way to stop us.
The moment for departure had arrived. But not until after we all walked together one last time. It must have been magnificent from the audience. The sea of crimson caps and gowns, all marching at a perfectly timed pace. One last time to hear that high school band play, and they were playing that song just for us.
Valedictorians spoke nervously to the audience, trying to leave us all with the nuggets of wisdom they spent the last two weeks searching for. And then, one by one, we were released into that new world of freedom. Sure it was just a clumsy shake of the assistant principal's hand and a slippery grasp on the diploma, but it meant so much more. No longer were we bound by three minute bells and twenty minute lunches. No more would we hear a teacher tell us to quiet down because we're disturbing the other classes.
Finally, the last name was called. One last hand shake and diploma. A sea of crimson caps went flying into the air. And as quickly as those caps fell, that sea of crimson gowns parted. The class of ninety-something that was once bonded by books and obligations, now drifted their separate ways never to be bonded in the same way again.
Will we meet again at the ten year reunion? Perhaps. But we won't be as close as we were in high school. Or maybe we'll be closer. Who knows? For now, we just wave goodbye.
