As I Await My Departure
By Bridgitte Thao, 18, Minnesota
As I await my departure
I drum my fingers
on the desk I’ve made home.
The page before me
lies prostrate and stained—
rich with secrets I’ve amassed.
How to twine lives,
how to happy cry,
how to forge friends from strangers.
How to fan flames,
how to carve life lines,
how to chart the course of my days.
How to bake joy,
how to crochet warmth,
how to build a hearth in my own heart.
For years of toil,
my eyes never leaving the clock,
I’ve yearned to soar away.
Now these hours of solitude melt
into streams of tears
as I await my departure.
After the ecstasy of realizing I’ll never have to step foot in my high school again evaporated, chilling loneliness settled in me. While I had been aware of the sudden endings foretold by the end of senior year, I wasn’t aware of how quickly I would have to say good-bye. The isolation, uncertainty, and nostalgia seeped into my bones and made me stressed at a time when I should be relaxed and on top of the world. Emotional turmoil coupled with early summer classes spells out a lonesome summer. While this piece directly ties to the end of my high school years (hinted at in the line “For years of toil” in which “for” is a homonym for “four”), I find that goodbyes don’t always coincide with closure or conclusions.
IG: @theebridgitte
