Will this be the last time?

Will this be the last time I…?

It’s the perpetual question this week. And it scares me because I know that at some point in the next seven days the answer will be yes.

The last time I stand in this spot. 
The last time I spend with these people in this way. 
The last time these things I’ve called home will so purely be mine.

Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things we ever have to do.

Why is everything do magical at night? The pretty things seem more pretty and the in pretty things fade into the darkness. Architectural lights give the lot world a grey cast that makes you recognize how everything can be so…ephemeral.

And nature at night. It just fixes things. And I sit at the end of senior year on the same stargazing rock I sat upon three years ago around this time when I was no longer a freshman and not quite a sophomore, just past the no swimming sign. Where I went for journaling and other bad writing and failed meditation though the years of college. To being here now. At the end. Confused by everything I am feeling and planning and pondering.

I feel like there’s something symbolic about walking across a bridge with a streetlamp’s reflection in still water to my left and the moon’s light reflected on the rippling lake to my right, and just beyond that the twinkling skyline of the city that has stolen my heart. I don’t quite know what it is yet.

Somehow the lake water lapping settles my racing mind. Nothing will ever be the same. That’s okay. It has to be okay. I will be okay. But for now I just listen and find peace.

I’m tired now. It’s time.