Last times

Like the ominous ripping off a Band-aid, so is leaving home for Centre; I know both must happen. But that doesn’t make either any easier.

Everywhere I go I find myself wondering if this is “The Last Time”—the last time I'll eat at Max and Erma’s with my family, the last time I'll feed my dogs, the last time I'll put my sister to bed. All my nostalgia is silly and unfounded; I know I'll be back, but I can't help but feel the end of an era—the only era I've ever known.

When the song “It’s a Step in the Right Direction” brings tears, enough is enough. And maybe last times are okay, because they lead to first times—first times that can be just as fulfilling and meaningful as what is left behind. I'm so eager to experience all the adventures that await at Centre. I'm ready to stop the torment and just be there. Enough already.

The anticipation of a Band-aid ripping off is worse that the pain. Once over, I realize it wasn’t so bad. Same with leaving for Centre—once there, I’ll forget the pain of goodbye!