It hasn’t hit me that I’m graduating this weekend. I’ve measure my life in terms of the school year, and now I can’t. I won’t see these same faces in the fall. I won’t see this same scenery. I won’t have this same routine and I don’t know if my new routine will ever be as good as this one.
‘You could fail your swim test and come back next year,’ my dad joked on the phone.
‘I could,’ I said somewhat seriously. ‘I wouldn’t mind the extra year.’