Eight days ago, my friends and I from college said our first set of goodbyes. It sounds overly dramatic but I think what made this particular set of goodbyes different is that half of us were not coming back after the summer, half of us were not moving back in at the end of August and half of us were moving away from the areas that we had made our homes the past four years. I am grateful for my friends, though, because they—like me—truly believe that home is made of people, not places. And that is what made this particular set of farewells difficult; the home that we had known for four years was being rent apart by change, good change, but change nonetheless.
As the week moved forward and graduation weekend commenced, the reality of what it is to graduate really dawned upon me. There were more lasts than firsts, all of which were enjoyable but the realization of last moments came much later. We made runs to Starbucks, had our final cafeteria-made Taylor Ham, egg and cheese sandwiches, ate at our favorite local Colombian place, had our final cannolis from our favorite Italian bakery and slowly, but surely, we bared our walls and stripped our rooms of the small, homey items that kept us warm, bathed in the light of laughter, late nights and good times.
One of these nights was my birthday. We had gone out earlier for margaritas and I, being a one-hit wonder of alcoholic beverages, was drunk enough that my friends were worried, being that I also have many other medical conditions that could be exacerbated by the consumption of (cheap) alcohol. My friends came up to my room to check on me and we ended up sitting and talking for hours. Now, I don't make a huge deal of any of my birthdays because I had never thought I was someone worth celebrating. Yes, I know that's a terrible thought and yes, I understand that I probably will need therapy at some point or another, but that has been my thought for the longest time. That a birthday was just another day and nothing more. So, I sat in my room and joined in the conversation and the ridiculous nonsense we were spewing from our half-tipsy mouths and my heart raced a little bit as we got closer to midnight. I smiled a small smile as I read the clock on my iPhone and looked around the room, resting my gaze for a few seconds each on the faces of those that surrounded me. This is it, I thought, I am exactly where I want to be and I don't think any other birthday compares to this past one. I rang my birthday in with the four people that meant the most to me, who have journeyed with me and who have given me more than I could ever possibly deserve in this life and it was a quiet, simple midnight. They yelled happy birthday at 12:40am, but I knew that they had remained silent because they let me have my small moment of incandescent joy.
Fast forwarding to two days ago, I was lucky enough to have the evening to spend with these four people (sans Beyoncé, our favorite friend) to celebrate our graduations and the birthdays of many of she who had birthdays that had passed and some that were coming up. We had dinner and we drank a little and said goodbyes and exchanged gifts and relished in each other. Yesterday, I saw one of my favorite friends in the whole world, friends since high school and twins at heart and we laughed well into the night and spoke about our struggles in such an open and honest manner that it almost seemed unreal that I could be that much of myself with anyone and with her, I was.
And last night was when I realized the greatest gift I have ever received from my friends, even the ones who are no longer large parts of my life: me. They have always been able to see me. They have always seen me. Even when I was hiding from the world and even when my heart was broken and my soul was torn and I was devastated, they saw me and held on to me long enough so that I could find the strength to look in the mirror to see me too.
When push comes to shove, no pomp and circumstance could ever have enough power to take me away from these people.
I'm not worried.
