Last night I went over to Corbin and Shawn’s house (Shorbin’s?) for one last little hurrah before we all graduate and shuck off to potentially greener pastures. I sat on the couch, sucking down Dr. Pepper like it was medicine for the sentimental, and stared around the room, realizing that this was probably the last time I’d see all these people in the same place at the same time.
At one point a bunch of us went outside and started walking laps clockwise around the block. We had one of those all-encompassing life talks. Everyone was heartbreakingly honest the whole time. I was left thinking this: why don’t we talk like this every day? I really lack the ability to describe how significant it all felt. But there we were, these vessels of potential, taking solace in each other one last time for one last circumferential walk.
And here I am now, knowing that I’ve trivialized it by trying to put it into words. Oh, feelings.
I don’t think any of us are up to having that kind of talk every day. Not daily ones, that would blow our heads open and splatter them on the aforementioned sidewalk.
I think we do really really well to gather together people with whom such talks are possible, and to stay with them through all the times when talk consists of grunts or screams or hysterical unfounded laughter, so we have the chance of talks like that, just a few of them.
And the chance to write down that it happened, so we won’t forget, in between, that it does.