Leaving

When you’re 14 years old and kids are mean in the cafeteria it’s all you can think about. When you’re 15 years old and high school isn’t quite what you thought it would be it’s all you can think about. When you’re 16 years old and you are one stop sign away from passing your driving test it’s all you can think about. When you’re 17 years old and your’e unfinished physics project is due tomorrow and you haven’t yet bought a dress for prom next weekend it’s all you can think about. But somehow when you’re 18 years old and the day is tomorrow it is the last thing you want to think about. Because suddenly these back country roads, overprotective community mothers and small classroom walls don’t feel restrictive, they feel like home. And where ever you’re headed for probably won’t have a movie theater that only seats 50 and you probably won’t have known every faculty member at your new school since kindergarten. Suddenly a comfort zone seems like a pretty nice place to stay. And in the back of your mind you know the familiar words “great opportunities”, “new friends” and “higher education” still ring true and you’ve had a countdown for this on your phone since December of your junior year but still. When you’re 18 years old and the day is tomorrow you’re wondering how the heck it came so fast. And suddenly leaving sounds less like an empty threat to your entire hometown on a bad day and more like a deadline fast approaching, ominous and unknown. And all this time you’ve been trying to kill for 18 years is somehow running out. And you’d be lying if you say you won’t sleep a little lighter tonight in your own bed and get a little sad/scared/terrified when your parents hug you goodbye tomorrow in front of your roommate. But dawn will break and you will be in a new bed in a new room in a new city and you won’t be leaving, you’ll be beginning.