New Endings

Today is the beginning of the end. I have just learned that the longer you stay in one place the more people you have to say good by to. Last night I said good by to many dear graduates of North Hills Preparatory– many wonderful students who are soon moving to the far ends of the nation to enter the world of college. My dear friend David is shipping off to the Marines at the end of the month, my friend and "mentee," Andrew, is moving to California for college, and my dearest friends Shaun and Kyndra left this morning for Nevada where they will live for at least 2 years. There are others too, others that will leave soon to go far away. And I am here.

It is strange to think that living in one place my entire life has given me a rather forlorn view. It is as if I am a dock. I watch each boat as it is untied from its post and drifts out into the open water. I am the unwavering posts and planks driven deep into the ground below the surface. I guess I am happy to be the dock; after all it is much more convenient to leave from the dock than the shallow beach. I am glad to oblige. I am happy because so many beautiful boats have rested here with me.

I want to some how convey how happy I feel in the midst of the sorrow of good bye and the loneliness of an empty dock, but I think that it has already been said better than I can manage. One of my ninth graders wrote the following passage in response to a wonderful freshmen year in high school. I think she has captured the kind of feelings that I am experiencing as I say good bye to my friends and stand in the water as summer rises around me.

This almost-last day honestly made me want to cry for no reason and every reason. I wanted to cry for all the happiness of the past year, for every daily interaction with friends and teachers that would become memory. I wanted to cry for feelings unspoken and silent communications; for all the students leaving and for those who would arrive. I wanted to cry and hug and grasp tightly the childhood so deftly escaping us. I wanted to cry.

Each year I think, This one won't be anything like the last. And it wasn't, was it? Last year I told myself that I would make an effort to savor every moment and breathe deeply, because what I breathe is precious Life. I kept the promise to myself, and myself was rewarded with so much light and exuberance that there became nothing to do but allow the luminous tides of emotion to envelop me. Laughter, sorrow, fear- all have ebbed and flowed through our days, and as we near the end of a fateful passage, these currents give way to new radiance; hidden bodies pulsing through lucent skin. We have Discovered, though what has been Found may not be clear. Concerns of this ambiguity are soon cast aside, for something more important has been revealed: Realization. We know, though we do not, and march forward; consciousness settling lightly and steadfastly as falling leaves in a closing book. We commence, and are aware: we are illuminated.

So I'll let a fifteen year old say it because she says it true and she says it fair; somehow she is able to capture the beauty of good things coming to an end.

And thanks, all of you that are leaving, for blessing me with so much light and illumination. I will see you after.