Commencement

Happiness ebbed and flowed from the open classroom doors. It was a river of old students, happy to be back, because there was nothing anyone could do to put them down. You will never see my classmates that happy to be in school on a Friday night. It’s not that fun when you are forced to be there.

I stand at attention, guarding my door. People moved in and out, reuniting with lost friends, remembering moments and memories and names. One girl walked the halls alone, looking for someone, probably. I felt sorry for her; loneliness is worst when you have to pretend you’re not alone.

Finally, they were called away, put into lines and marched single file to the auditorium. Graduating after putting high school in the back of their minds, and going on to greater things. I look for your face in the procession, to see if you have changed from chasing these greater things.

They call names, taking attendance, and I smile at the strangeness of it all. I wonder how you must feel, after all these months of being a number, to be called by your name. I wonder if it’s like coming home.

You looked good when I saw you from a distance. Healthy enough, still a little bumbling, still sharp. You look good, walking across the stage, picking up your awards. It’s been different without you.

The parade ends, and I jump from my seat. I have assignments to do, posts to guard, instructions to follow, but I throw them away. They are nothing, not now. I have to talk to you.

“Hey!” I cry out, waving and jumping up. I wish I were taller.

“Hey there,” you walk towards me. I hug you, and smile up at you. I am the perfect size for you to hold. I take back my wish. I'm tall enough.

“How are you?” I say, even though I know.

“I’m good, really good. You?”

“I’m alright. It’s so good to see you! How’s university? Oh, congrats on your award!” I’m spluttering, getting as many words out as I can. “It’s so good to see you,” I say again.

You laugh at me, per usual, like you always do when I get too excited. “I’m happy to see you too.”

I open my mouth to say more, but someone crashes into me from behind. “Oh sorry,” I say, looking back to see who it was.

“Hey! I’ve missed you so much!” She hugs me, squeezing my mid-section hard. “Wow, you’re so much taller! And your hair! I can’t believe you cut it!” She grabs my hands and gushes on, her hair bobbing as she talks.

I see you backing away, an amused smile on your face. My heart falls, and I stand, holding hands with the wrong person, listening to the wrong voice.

“I missed you,” you mouth, as you dissolve into the crowd.


Yeah, I missed you too.