Pomp & Circumstance

After approximately 1.5 trillion years, I am finally finished with College. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure how it happened. Unlike the vast populace at Ole Miss, I did not party and drink my way through. Unlike the clubs and tribes at Mississippi College, I did not plead or social-status my way through. I just made it. I think there was hard work. I think there were late nights. I think there was a pretty girl who gave me a soft kiss and shoved me all the way through that last, hellish year. But I still don’t know how I made it. Because throughout my entire academic career, I’ve never done anything like this.

The only graduation I have ever been in was in Kindergarten. My pint-sized friends and I stood puzzled in our golden robes as camera flashes put spots in our eyes. Our memories? A Leprechaun trapped in a box [which turned out to be another box of delicious Lucky Charms on a string], dreaded naptimes and really nice ladies that told us to put our crayons back where they belonged when we were through. We were proud standing up there that day. But when they handed us our diplomas, we weren’t entirely sure what we had accomplished. We were, however, fully aware of how proud our parents looked.

This time, I imagine I will stand on a brightly lit stage fully aware of what I have accomplished. I will know that somehow, that little slip of paper represents five years of education. But just like in Kindergarten, I won’t entirely know what that means. My parents will smile and look prouder than I've ever seen them, but will only have a vague idea of the effort I put in to get there. After all the personal traumas, defeats, joys and triumphs I have experienced throughout college, I’m not entirely sure anyone will ever know but myself. If you’ve been there, you know what I mean. You remember the limits you overcame, and the long nights that seemed to never end. The dreaded final exams that stretched your mind until play-dough looked like a more solid substance. Your friendships came and went; broke and fixed; learned or lingered. Love most likely did the same. It was the second longest transitional period in your entire life. You did it with help, but only you know how much.

But in the end, I’m not sure that letting others know is that important. Unless I write my memoirs, most of what happened will be forgotten. I will place significance where there originally was none, and small things that changed my life will be left unstated and unremembered. The fact of the matter is, not even I will truly know what I have accomplished. What matters is what has changed in me. How I have overcome is secondary to how I can overcome. That’s one lesson I learned in college. I have a feeling it will be one of the hardest to remember.