by Annie Hendrick
Dear June 17th, 2011,
You are just another day on the calendar, coming around once every 365 days. However despite your yearly return to the present, you’re unique and therefore kind of a big deal. Usually it is the promise of the end of school, and for grades K-11, that is pretty important, unleashing summer unto the eagerly awaiting children. But this year, as a graduating student of grade 12, you and I have a different kind of relationship.
Back on a warm September 2nd, it seemed like you and I would never meet. You were way on the other side of the calendar, lost in a month that seemed like I had just experienced it. But now you are so close – I can see you approaching on the horizon very slowly; each day since that September 2nd you have been inching towards my direction. June 17th: high school graduation.
Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed my four years of high school just as much as anyone of my fellow classmates has – the food, the faculty, the lovely student body… but I guess you could say now I am hitting the breaking point. The hallways seem more crowded than before, my footsteps drag along the floor, and the minutes of the school clocks tick at a glacial pace. I think RFH and I have had a solid relationship; we have each given each other something, but it is time to end that relationship and start one with you, June 17th. You will take me to the long-awaited summer, and then into fall, and onto bigger and better things.
Since I’ve been here, my class and I have experienced a multitude of exciting events. I think we may have experienced two to three bomb scares, lockdowns, and evacuations to the local dump. Many made a run for it that day, as I am now from RFH itself. Enchanting junior prom was another good one – the assembly line of faculty staring us down as we entered the great Ocean Place. Food and music topped the night off. And I don’t think anyone in sixth period lunch of 2010 will forget the infamous food fight – such a high school cliché that I never thought I would be right in the middle of one. Within half of a second of hearing someone scream the words, I had chocolate milk in my hair and dripping down my face. Nothing again chocolate milk, but it wasn’t the best moment for us.
But I digress, June 17th. As much as I’d love to continue on down memory lane, I’d rather look forward to meeting you. My time has been great, but I am ready to reach the gates that have been closed for four years, and to have them open up at my touch, to meet you on the other side. I’ll see you on Friday, the perfect day to represent the feeling of freedom that you will bring to me. Until then, I will try my best to fight my worsening case of senioritis.