I'm not quite sure how it happened, but college is over. The moment I'd been waiting on for so long finally arrived. I got out of my last final on Tuesday--but instead of
running away with my head held high and full of good spirits, I felt short of breath, and my legs shook as I walked down the fancy library steps. Emotion caught in my throat as I went, slow and lingering.
It is much more bittersweet than I had imagined. Aren't all goodbyes though? I'm a lover of beginnings, and often eager for endings, but when they come, I have a hard time letting go. This semester was such a good one; full of new friends, a rockin' senior thesis paper, and lots of laughs over journal editing in class. It dragged on and flew by and now we're here, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about it or what I'm supposed to do.
I still don't have a job. It's unfortunate, and there have been many moments in the past few weeks where I feel liked I failed. Even after applying for a good many, I've only heard back from two, neither of which went anywhere, I'm sad to say. I think the lack of direction in this category makes me a wee bit cautious about the next few months. I'll have bills to pay. How will I pay them? Will I have to dig into my long-earned but meager savings? Will I have to pick up part-time jobs? It's discouraging, too, that E found a job with much more ease a few years ago, securing a position at a Fortune 500 company with three months to go before graduation. And here I am, two days from my graduation ceremony, and my immediate future is completely and utterly unknowable.
But something's gotta give. I just know it. Someone will give me a chance. A chance to prove that I do have what it takes, that I can offer them something great with my words and my passion. I feel like I've been talking about this so much in the past few months, but I think you understand. It's a hard place to be in.
The past week consisted of a lot of nostalgia. Gathering those last memories with the friends I love so dearly, reaching out to new ones spur of the moment, imprinting photographs of sweet little St. Augustine on my mind for future remembering. I will truly miss this place. My small but wonderful family, the bells in the tower that sing each hour, the coquina streets and sweet post office workers (yes, we've become quite close over the past few months). There is a sense of safety here, a romantic mood of mysterious history mingled with small town closeness.
But as this chapter closes and another one starts, I am excited for what's to come. These next few months, although uncertain, hold endless, infinite possibilities. I have been ready for this moment for a long time, and although it's still so hard to shut the book on my college career, I'm prepared to embrace a new one, of which the binding is not yet broken and the pages are still crisp, the one that perhaps begins with, "She took a step forward, and looked out at the horizon . . . "