I have to admit that not everything turned out as I had planned. I suppose this is an unintended consequence of being a high schooler. Especially the geometry project of origami cranes that crumbled into a lifeless clump of tissue – a B was generous on Ms. Whittell’s part. And let’s forget my Oscar-worthy attempt at Lady Macbeth’s monologue in Mr. Schulte’s Acting II class (yes, Acting II, despite a lack of talent).

I remember these worst experiences in my final weeks but only to remind myself that I made it. Don’t get me wrong, I also choose to remember the best. College sweatshirts and graduation preparation invite the nostalgia that reminds me of what I will miss while I (inevitably) hole up in my dorm room: colorful brown paper bags in B201, Mr. Berkowitz’s pitiful throws, a rowdy bus ride to a patchy softball field in Westchester.

High school left me as soon as it became a part of my daily agenda. But I imagine that I have taken enough from Marymount to remember the bits and pieces – enough for my memories to catch up with me when I least expect them. While on my rocky trek, I did not foresee that making it to the finish line would entail taking a step back. Now, looking at this journey from a distance, I recognize all that these years have offered me, but I realize that there are still more lessons to be learned. However, I am not unfulfilled: high school grounded me in the mission to seek the answers to the questions left unanswered.

After having made it, I wonder what to make of it. What do I make of the burden of an empty plate that asks me to consider what to pile on next? The slow crawl towards spring had me asking “what next?” at the turn of every corner. The summer stretches before me like a landing strip. How have I made it to where I will recharge for those empty months? How will I move towards acceptance of the fact that I will take off before I can blink an eye?

Sitting on the unexpected, I pass the time by considering what making it has offered me: strength and spirit, the drive to ride out the storm. My move to California from New York and the first day at Marymount was unexpected in itself. Abandoning my expectations and hesitations, whether at this moment or on that first day, has kept me grounded on my uphill climb. A curveball brought me to Marymount, shaping the circumstances that disabled me from hesitating or adopting the expectations that could have led me in an adverse direction. I could have made it down another path, but I am glad to have embarked on this one.

The next waiting game is about recognizing that this curveball is what brought me to the start, then to the end; I now ask myself what I plan to carry with me to make it again. These next four years will challenge me to again let go of expectations, to embrace the flops and fails. I would be at fault to expect everything to turn out, but, having made it the first time, I will not hesitate to pick myself back up again.