This weekend signaled the beginning of the end. Suddenly, everything feels like the last time. My last official day of classes. My last frustrating attempt to print in the grad lounge. The last time I double-click to open my document entitled "English Masters Thesis" (at least for awhile).
We had our English MA end-of-the-year party on Saturday, at the same place that we had one of our first beginning-of-the-year parties back in late August. As we piled BBQ pork, burgers, macaroni salad, and more onto the small table in the dining area, I couldn't help but remember just eight months ago when we set it with home-made lasagna, garlic bread, and salad. Then, Thomas did all of the cooking as we second-years greeted each other after a long summer apart and began to get to know the first-years. Then, we all still brimmed with the excitement that comes with the first week of classes, and we gave each other knowing, exasperated sighs as we contemplated the months of thesis-writing ahead of us. Now, we ask each other about our after-graduation plans, speaking of the far-flung places we'll land, the jobs we want and the jobs we got, and excitedly talk about the moment that we officially submitted our theses and capstones. I submitted mine on Thursday.
In three weeks, we will graduate and my cohort will disperse to Germany, England, Michigan, and Massachusetts. Still others have plans in California, New Hampshire, and Ohio. Our close-knit little community is breaking apart and once again I feel like Jo March, saddened by all of the change, by a chapter closing. But now, like Jo, it's time to start realizing some of my own life-long goals. It's also time to banish fear of failure (or, perhaps, to learn to work with that fear), and to learn to accept that not every path to fulfillment has clear-cut mile markers. But that's a post for another time.
At the moment, I think there's nothing wrong with reveling in a few more weeks of last hurrahs.
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