Go, go ahead and surprise me
Just when I thought I was OK and at peace with this monumental and mature decision of mine to move on, I am spaz-chopped by my own emotions. Today at the last Sidelines meeting of the semester, everything was immersed in that bleary-eyed, end-of-the-semester type of jubilant relief as we awarded the staffers and editors of the semester. But then Jason spoke up to extend his thanks and best wishes to those who would be graduating or not returning to staff, including me and Amanda and Patty. I looked at Amanda, and as her nose and throat became flushed, I realized that yeah, it was actually going to be weird and sad. And then I cried. And Amanda cried. And we hugged. And cried some more. And hugged more people. It was catharthic and depressing. But necessary.

Then as I was driving to the library, I saw a squirrel in the road, writhing in its last moments. I slowed to a crawl, but still couldn't avoid at least driving over it. I have no idea if I hit it, but I heard a thud of some sort. And it felt like a stake in my heart, even if I hold a grudge against squirrels. They don't deserve to die at the hands of a car tire, or anywhere else, really.

I couldn't have asked for a more poignant way to punctuate my evening than by witnessing the fleeting nature of life.