Today was the senior’s last day of high school. Ninety percent of my friends at school are seniors, and it feels unnatural and surreal to watch them graduate and leave, while I’m stuck at Farragut for another year.  I understand that the people in my life will cycle around. Some will come, some will go, and some will be the outline of my life..holding everything together.  I’m happy that my friends are going to college and opening a new, exciting chapter of their life. I’m happy that my old youth pastor is following the call to minister elsewhere. I’ve accepted that my granddad is no longer with us. But sometimes facts of life are hard to absorb, like they’re too heavy and thick to fit under my skin.
Some relationships are like waves. They build and grow, gathering more force and care with each second, and then the wave peaks and gradually slopes downwards until it crashes on the shore, leaving me wondering “where did it go?”. Desperately, I claw at the sand, grasping at any remaining chance I have to keep them with me. The sand and my hopes slide through my fingers, leaving a trail of hurt. So I begin searching for new waves, waves that won’t leave – anything to replace the emptiness and the confusion that was left in the wake.
 As I drift away from the shore, all I find is cheap imitations, drawn on rough souvenir shirts and shiny photographed postcards. Gift shop doors slam and faceless people rush past me as I pay $15 for a tee-shirt I’ll never wear.
Then I head back to the beach as the sun is setting, casting a light on the sand. I see the imprints of the waves that have crashed on the beach. They have left their mark, they are not forgotten, and they remain, even if it’s in a different form. There are endless opportunities to harness each incoming wave, learning it and knowing it before it crashes on the shore. I thank the sun for revealing things to me that I could not see before.

New favorite song: Turning Tables – Adele