The clean ending
The men of Columbia’s graduating class of 1913. Wherever their paths took them afterward, it’s safe to say they’ve all now transitioned to the next world. (Library of Congress)
May and June are full of graduations and celebrations.
My cousin graduated from medical school and is headed to her dream residency. My sister-in-law marched, masked, across a stage in cap and gown to claim a high school diploma. And Alexandria Lin, alumna of The Little Middle School, graduated from the University of Georgia and will work in the aerospace industry developing software for satellites.
I always feel a bit wistful when I consider these transitions. I remember what it felt like to be completely done with high school, staying up all night at our community-sponsored graduation party, which included a clambake, mini golf, go-karts, and dancing and ended in a sunrise cruise in Portsmouth Harbor. True to the idea of commencement, it felt like the beginning of the rest of my life, whatever that turned out to be.
Though I can never be eighteen again (and boy, I really wouldn’t want to), I’ve realized that these moments of magical potential and a fresh start don’t have to be limited to graduations. As an American adult, I have a powerful amount of freedom in my life. I’ve had it ever since that spring of my “commencement.” It hasn’t gone away. If I want a clean ending and a new beginning, I can have one. Or, even if I don’t want to quit everything and start over, I can simply act on what that feeling represents. To me, that is opportunity and possibility.
My brother, a software developer, changes jobs every so often. No matter which company he’s working for, he’s coding in his basement, but as someone who has worked for the same boss (ugh, myself) for most of my adult life, it’s amazing to me that he can simply choose a new job. In the moments when I’ve felt a little jealous of that flexibility, I have had to remind myself that I have it, too. I can make different choices and have a different job, too, if I really want one.
I noticed that I felt a pang of longing when people moved away, especially if they were moving somewhere (Savannah, Charleston, New York, San Diego) on the water. This was a profound message from my own future, and I eventually heeded it. Like a college kid, I packed all of my stuff into a truck and trailer and headed out of state.
As I watch this generation of graduates begin the next phase of their lives, It’s a good time to check in with myself. Am I happy with how things are going? What would I change? Where are the loose ends I’d like to tie up? What would give me the satisfaction of turning in that final final exam and rushing out into the summer sunshine?
In fact, I feel a measure of contentment. I don’t need clean breaks and clean slates right now—I’m pretty into the stuff I’m doing. That’s helpful information in itself. Next year, or five years from now, that might be different. And that is perfectly reasonable. I don’t have to be stuck doing the same old things and living in the same old place forever.
Life is really exciting when you’re young and everything is new. But it doesn’t have to stop being exciting as you grow older. The adventures don’t have to end. And importantly, not everything that we begin has to continue forever. We don’t have to keep carrying all of our stuff forward indefinitely. We can drop things—possessions, habits, jobs, beliefs—that no longer serve us. We can move on to the next step, whatever that may be, or simply enjoy and appreciate the liminal space in which we have ended one phase and the other has not yet begun.
There is a steady, reassuring energy that comes from commitment and deep roots. Yet I recall with pleasure the feeling of the clean ending, when the familiar becomes the past and the future is unknown. I’ll borrow a little bit of that feeling from this year’s graduates, living vicariously through them, as I plot what’s next for myself. Congratulations to all.
What transitions stand out as you reflect on your past? And when you reflect on your current situation, is there anything you’re ready to move on from…or to move toward?
