Short Short

5:03 AM. I have to wake up in an hour. Meaning I have an hour left in my comfort zone. I will have to get out of this warm bed, put on my confident smile, pink dress with the sparkly top and silver kitten heals. My friends will all be waiting for me in the cafeteria. We will share stories and memories over cups of weak coffee and stale eggs. 5:13 AM. Two hours and then I will be pushed in the sea of unknown. I will line up alphabetically and be lost among a stampede of black gowns. I will have to sit in an uncomfortable chair on the soccer field, wait for my name to be called, take a deep a breath and walk slowly to the stage. Praying to God, that I do not trip, I will place one foot in front of the other, watching my feet take each step. My breath will get louder and louder, matching the beat of my heart. “This is it,” I will think. 5:24 AM. The man at the podium holds my future. My life of uncertainty. He also holds the memories of my last four year. The lessons learned, the friendships formed and the friendships lost. 5:36 AM. The memories of my ex. Our entangled hands walking to class and the laughter we shared at the parties Saturday nights. We’d make fun of all the drunk girls begging for the attention of the star athletes from the basketball team, while we down our own beer. 5:47 AM. Later we would head back to my place, mix some rum with whatever juice we had in the fridge, play a few rounds of cards and eventually fall asleep side by side. 5:54 AM. Now he is going on to graduate school, half away across the country and me? I still have no idea what is happening after I cross that stage. Will I get a job? And where will I live? Will I make enough to support myself? Will I ever speak to my friends again? 5:58 AM. Two more minutes. Two more minutes than my life changes forever. 6 AM. My alarm goes off. I hit the off button, roll out of bed and stare in the mirror. “Ready or not, here I come.”