How am I supposed to say goodbye to this world I’ve known? I find myself finally comfortable, finally belonging, finally home. Yet now, I have to kiss it all goodbye. Every year someone would tell me to take it all in, to enjoy the moment before it became a memory. Every year I’d ignore them, every year I would know that I would have time. Every year dismissing their warning- saving their words for a rainy day.  And now here we are, the beginning of the end. I don’t want it to end. I’m not ready to say goodbye to this little oceanside town. I’m not ready to say goodbye to these people (friend, foe and everyone in between). As much as I’d complain, WHS was comfortable- the people, the halls, the teachers, all of it. Now the comfort is limited. Here we are- the series finale of 12 life changing years together. When did we grow up? How did we go from the children listening to Matilda on the rug at the Gorman Fort Banks? How did we go from the preteens echoing chants of “football Friday” and running the ever important non stop run at the ATC? When did we stop carrying those big binders and wearing face masks around the middle school? When did we become seniors? 

 I think about this journey we’ve been on- each of us individually playing a role in everyone else’s story. We’ve longed to be where we are now, desperately wishing for it to be our turn. Now senior year has begun, the grand finale to all of our time together. Truly I’m dumbfounded as it genuinely feels impossible that we’re here in this moment. I had the pleasure and honor of watching my sister graduate from WHS as salutatorian almost 8 years ago. I couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to her. I couldn’t fathom that my world was changing because she was starting to write the next chapter of life.  The pen is now in my shaky hands and truly, I’m scared to write the final chapter of this story.  

As a lover of storytelling, I’m always eager to see how the plot will unfold. I thrive on turning the pages of the book or clicking next episode as the end credits roll.  I have always taken comfort in the familiar, enjoying when I know the outcome. I am a chronic “rewatcher”(I have seen my favorite tv shows more times than I want to admit). However, I’ve realized that when I find myself revisiting my favorite stories, I only rewatch the parts that left an impact on me. Emma and Hook’s Wedding in Once Upon A Time, the Ducky Tie episode of How I Met Your Mother and  The One With The Embryo from Friends are all permanently tattooed in my brain.   If I was to click on to Netflix and be presented with seasons 1-3 of my high school years, the episodes I would rewatch are simply a no brainer.  

I would play back the entire Drama Society singing Seasons of Love before Freaky Friday. In the absence of the song the previous two nights, our appreciation for the tradition grew.  In my mind I can see that first Christmas party, the one where we realized we all fit like puzzle pieces, perfectly together. I can see the packed lunchroom, all of us crowded around that table simply breathing the same air. I feel the material of the preschoolers’ playground as they chase me around the structure, the wind blowing just so. Or the day a power outage forced each teacher to play games with their classes. The classes where we did more laughing than working or the feeling of victory when passing an APUSH quiz. It’s all there, simply waiting to be played again. 

I am confident only when I’m comfortable. Translation: I feel safe when I’m living a life of routine. I’m a creature of habit; I take the same routes to my classes and eat at the same table every day. I compare classes and swap stories whenever I’m reunited with my friends. Now it all has an expiration day- the end is coming. As I’ve caught up with old friends recently, they’ve all told me how much more there is to life outside of Winthrop High School. They’re happy, getting out of this school opened so many doors for them. And I want that- I want the freedom to live my life without fear of judgement. 

It’s like I’ve rewritten the script of the last 11 years. Growing up here has been for lack of a better word a journey. Part of me feels guilty for saying I will miss this place and these people, ignoring the years of tears, stress, and anger some of them have caused. Because of them, my self confidence was destroyed. I spent most of freshman year with my head down in the halls, my voice shaking each time I asked to leave the room. Disappearing into my hoodies and airpods, my anxiety spiraled. Because of them, I was shattered. 

But it wasn’t all bad. Like any good story it had its highs and lows. Acknowledging that even the mountains have valleys. As much as I’m ready to put them behind me, in a strange way it was comfortable, it was expected. I knew how to navigate the jungle gym; I knew which rocks were shaky and which could hold me safely. I will not miss their taunts or little comments. Even though they never accepted me and never considered me a friend, they were used to me. What if other people never get used to me? 

So what will I miss about this place I’ve called home? The people and the memories I’ve made on my own. I will miss the way Arianna comes down to lunch- telling the table of her desire for people to walk faster on the stairs. I will miss the morning car rides with Mari, neither of us awake and our individual AirPods blasting our ears. I will miss my adventures with Maddie, braving the bathroom one step at a time. I will miss the nightly FaceTime check-ins with Brady, even if it’s 5 seconds just to say hi. I will miss Jenna and Holly texting us about how different life is in Worcester. Yet these six are in it for the long haul, no distance can keep us apart.

However, that’s not all I’ll miss. I’ll miss Holly’s constant “Hey queen” whenever we pass each other in the halls. We waited two years to be back in the same school and now our time in this building is almost over. I will miss the carpools with Sarah to rehearsal, both of us attempting to hold a conversation over the Hamilton soundtrack. I will miss Marissa throwing up the peace sign in the photos of the day and the way Avery always tells me she loves me when I give her the other half of my bagel. Laughing with Ayanah in señor’s class about nothing and everything simultaneously. The way Juliet smiles when she realizes I’m giving her a hug or the way a text from Lily or Brooke can make my day. Spontaneous reunions with Amaya in the halls, attempting to catch each other up on everything we’ve missed. Or the way Allyson calls me Alana Freeman when she sees me around. How am I supposed to pass my summer days without Willa, paint covering our hands and stories being exchanged while children sing in the background. Better yet the way Katheryn’s face lights up when we’re reunited at lunch. Or talking and laughing through precalc with Yudi- both of us trying to pay attention yet somehow giving up on the classwork. How will I go through my day to day without any of them next to me? 

The first place I belonged here was the drama society. I felt alive, like I had a home. It’s been my safe space to fall, to listen, to talk about anything. This ragtag group was brought together for a reason- we were all in search of a place to call home. Honestly saying goodbye to this part of my life will be one of the hardest goodbyes. Oh how I’ll miss seasons of love and eating pizza on the floor of the crossover. Only three more shows left to laugh with the people that have become a second family. Only three more tech week photo shoots and note sessions that go on for hours. The desire to go home is the only thought on everyone’s mind. The half off Prince food will feel different this year. I hope to find the same sense of community in my next chapter. 

Not only will I miss that but I’ll miss the teachers and acquaintances that made these years survivable. The students kind enough to share a pencil or willing to talk about the stressful classes. The only other people who understand the pain of group projects or the fear of a test grade. How am I supposed to go through school without talking politics with Mr. Walton after school? Passing the time by asking Mr. Dixon any question that comes to mind or talking about every aspect of life with Mr. Parsons? What will I do without talking to Mrs. Calinda about Broadway news or talking to Mr. Donnelly about my articles? What will I do without this place and these people? 

I don’t think it’s fair to assess this through one lens, labeling the entire thing as good or bad. Because it wasn’t. It was both at the same time and should be treated as such. For better or worse we all got on this roller coaster at once and we’ll get off the same way we got on- together.