It’s certainly stifling, walking away from mass of families behind me. My cheaply made red robe is trapping the heat all too well between it and my body. Sweat has begun to form on the small of my back, under my arms, on my forehead, generally everywhere on my body actually. I’d given up wiping it away long ago.
The night as young and I am free. At least, that’s what I think on the way to my car, which is lost somewhere in the mass of automobiles that span the entire concrete slab in front of that monstrosity of a building that towers behind me.
So much space is taken up by so many things owned by so many people. Those people are all still behind me. You can hear their murmur, somewhere, back there. It’s like an excited buzzing. I’d say of bees except that I really dislike bees as well as mosquitoes and generally every insect that buzzes; it’s quite obnoxious after all. So, for all intents and purposes the buzz that goes on behind me, which is energetic and jovial, is not like that of bees but of people. People whose conversations are too far away to hear clearly but close enough to understand how they feel.
And I’m leaving those people behind. All of them, the ones I didn’t know and the ones that I do know. Is it wrong that I’m comfortable with that? I really don’t know most of them anyway, so I’ll assume that it is.
I’m momentarily whisked away from my thoughts by a tickling on the side of my left cheek. It’s like some incessant bug (this one not buzzing) walking along my face. I swat it away, assuming that it is a bug, only to find that it returns. Again and again no matter how many times I pummel it with my hand. It’s attached to my head, or my hat which is on my head. That idiotic looking, square, red cap that is perched precariously on my skull is certainly the worst idea whoever invented graduation uniforms ever had. It is infinitely ridiculous in its design and although it is supposed to entail a sense of academia, it only succeeds in making the wearer look entirely unbefitting of caring a diploma away from graduation. And that tassel! The imaginary bug that was crawling on my face is a red and black gathering of string, the likes of which have no purpose other than to move from the right side of my face to the other during some ridiculous ceremony, obviously not meant for the students (sitting through all those names is a punishment).
So I’m ranting my inner monologue as I search ever more diligently for my car, like a bloodhound caught on a scent. Row after row of similar looking vehicles pass me by as I hear more and more people exiting the huge structure on my left. Who knows if I’ll ever find my car? The noise has begun to grow as the swathes of bodies descend the extremely large flight of stairs leading up to appears to be a Greek temple plated in glass, but which is actually an arena. Americans and their obsession with Greco-Roman architecture, never ceases to amaze me. They do realize that Rome fell from a combination of its own opulence and disunity, right?
As my feet move faster, trying to escape the mass of people that seem to be yelling now, like a riot in the western Roman empire during its fall, I can’t help but be drawn back to it. My body, my heart wants to go back, to see familiar faces to give hugs, take pictures, shake hands, laugh, smile, all those things you do with people you know. But my mind keeps saying, “You’re done.”
I am a mass of mixed feelings. I need to escape the mob and move on with my life but you form attachments over the years. No one ever stops to look at why those attachments are made. It’s just assumed that it happens and people move on with their lives, get over it. Well, what if I don’t want to get over it! What if I want to understand why we do these things? Too often do people trudge through life without looking, or taking stock. Sure, time doesn’t ever slow down and things keep changing as you’re looking at them but that’s half the fun. While you’re looking at what just happened, new things are happening for you to look at later on down the road.
There were good times in high school. There were great times. There were utter shit times too. And it was all ok because there were people that were actually tolerable along the way. And as I’m strolling now (I have a hard time deep-thinking and walking at the same time), I’m wondering how hard it will be to find those people again, the ones that got you through the rough times and shared with you the good. I know it is ridiculous to worry about it, because what will happen, will happen, that’s the beauty of inevitability…
“Oh gosh, I hope I can find my car!”
I turn and see a familiar face surrounded by long blonde hair. Dammit! For the life of me I can’t remember that girl’s name. And she’s looking at me like I probably should. As if after these past four years that we’ve gone to school together I should have at least come to know the most basic information about her. Well, too bad I’ll never see her again to know her name, somewhere inside me, I’m laughing at that cynicism.
I smile like a god awful lunatic who’s hopped up on some crazy drug and say, laughing like an idiot, “yeah, I hope I can find my car too, there’s so many of them! Good luck!”
“Thanks!”
Walking faster, walking faster, walking faster! That was awkward. The murmuring is slowly dying down behind me from a combination of increasing distance between me and the crowd and the fact that people got the hint that graduation is over and it’s time to move on with our collective lives.
Man, I’m sweating terribly; I wonder how my white shirt looks underneath the stupid red robe. It’s probably soaked through, have to send it to the dry cleaners. Thank you summer heat! I hear heels clicking just behind me. I turn my head. And with an inner gasp I see that the blonde haired girl is headed in the same direction I am. The awkward situation resumes. I’ve already made up my mind that I won’t say anymore to her, which would only further perpetuate the awkwardness.
So I begin frantically hitting the unlock button on my key, hoping that in some ultimately forgiving way, God will decide to light my car up like a Christmas tree so that I can run to the beacon of light and be removed from this awful heat, this awkward situation, and this bittersweet evening. I’m tapping and tapping, mashing the button into the key like I’m typing some Morse code message to the girl behind me.
“Get the hell away from me! Get me the hell out of here! Why the hell won’t this thing work?”
Or something like that. And then, thank you Allah, thank you Jesus, and thank you Zeus! My car alights with the bright glow of my headlights! Yes, yes, yes! With a renewed pep in my step I hightail it away from the girl and over to my car. I wrench open the door, narrowly missing the on next to me, take off my stupid hat and Frisbee it across the car so that it ricochets off the inner door of the passenger side, bouncing away somewhere. Who cares anyway? I’m done with high school!
I hop up into my seat, shove the key into the ignition, slam my door excitedly, turn the key, and hear the satisfying rumble of my escape from this place. And then I look. My car is facing the Berry Center, that’s what they call the gigantic waste of tax payer dollars anyway. It’s named after some hot shot superintendent or some other person that did jack-shit in an administrative position for a long time, got paid for it, then off and left, probably dying somewhere, who cares?
But I’m looking at the brick and concrete bastion from hell nevertheless. And what I’m seeing are people, loads of them. 752 graduates and their families heading across the parking lot to cars, some still meandering outside of the building. Some have faces I know, barely visible in the artificial light from the huge street lamps in the parking lot. I can’t help but feel a little twinge in the pit of my stomach. Something like regret, or sadness, or distaste, or love, or attachment, or maybe all of them, is filling me up. This is an end of one thing and the beginning of another.
I sit there for a moment, taking this all in. Once I drive out of this parking lot, through the obstacle course of cops and cones, that’s it. High school will be completely over and that feeling will hit me, so I take my time. I think about the past semester, the past year, the past four years, middle school, elementary school. Thirteen years I’ve spent with some of these people and leaving them will be something to get used to, whether I really liked them or not.
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The cold air conditioning that’s on full blast has either dried my sweat or made it very cold. I shiver. That’s either from the temperature or the fact that I’m scared shitless of what it’s going to feel like driving out of here. No matter, those 752 people are pretty much doing the same thing I am, which is going somewhere else. If 752 people can do something, then I should probably be able to do it too.o one is watching, and I put my foot on the accelerator, slowly inching forward. One step at a time, that’s what they always tell you. And as I’m driving away, I can’t help but think that 752 people are taking their first steps on a new journey, right along with me.
I take another breath, smile to myself in that sort of inwardly reflective way that we all do from time to time when n
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