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I'm a creature of habit. I love schedules and routines.
I thrive in them.
Maybe it's all of those years growing up Catholic: the repetition of mass: the sitting, kneeling, and standing, the prayers that became a chant, a childhood meditation.
Whatever the reason, it's tough for me to toss my everyday away.
Sometimes that is what life requires.
Sometimes you have to drop everything, buy a plane ticket, and leave it all behind.
Even when you want to stay, you have to leave.
I board my flight and the weightlessness makes me nauseous.
I wish I could be at school to end another year,
to share in the long goodbyes and the ceremony of graduation.
The Pomp and Circumstance.
The speeches and the reading of names.
The hugs and proud families and photos snapped
of girls dressed like young women and boys dressed like young men.
The huge smiles stuck on sweaty faces and the smear of makeup from a sloppy hug.
This year I'll miss all of it.
I am a creature of habit. I love schedules and routines,
but this year will end with my heart frayed by this awkward farewell.
