It's one of the loveliest days of the year today. I feel free and unrestrained. Everything sparkles - the sunlight on green leaves, the sharp spray of water from the campus sprinklers, the glitter in the concrete sidewalk. I run into people I didn't expect to have a chance to say good-bye to : Nathaniel, Ted. "This is it," I tell myself, "your last days here." But it doesn't feel sad yet. None of my good-byes are yet permanent. I feel fulfilled and without regrets.
Each moment flows into the next. It doesn't feel like the end of anything, but merely a reshuffling. I have not yet cried for leaving here. I don't believe in the end of the friendships I made. They continue in a fresh capacity. Like water currents carving new sand patterns on the ocean bottom, my relationships neither lose nor gain anything new, but merely shift and flow into something else equally beautiful. I do not deny that this process can be difficult or painful, but I also have not found the expression of my melancholy or nostalgia in tears yet.
I breathe deep, the clean smell of library fills my lungs. I remember the first time I walked into this library and into the stacks, all I could think about was the presence of the books around me. The excitement of possibility, of all the pages, just waiting to be consumed. Today that emotion is tempered slightly, but the feeling of the immense body of knowledge hovering just above my head will never disappear. And now I leave - I promise to continue this later - but I have people to see, a lakefill to walk, a great expanse of water to gaze out upon and to bid farewell to.