The journey through the lasts 

The lasts have begun again. 

Somehow, they feel even more final this time, perhaps because we’ve been here before. 

The last first day of high school felt like taking a swift punch to the guts from an unknown assailant. It showed up out of nowhere, leaving you doubled over and vulnerable to the next hit. You were still reeling when each of the next lasts arrived. Last meet the teacher night. Bam. Last winter concert. Bam. Last winter break. Bam. 

By graduation day, you’d taken enough knocks to the noggin you’d gone numb. 

This time it’s different. You’re more aware now. 

The last first day of college feels more like a set of razor blades being swallowed. You see this one coming. You accept its arrival. But it’s still going to hurt the whole way down. 

I can see what’s before us now: the last fall break visit home will be followed by the last parents weekend visit and the last hockey game. The last Thanksgiving break will be quickly followed by the last winter break which will give way all too soon to the last first day of spring semester. The last spring break will come … and go. 

And then we’ll be there. Graduation, the last dividing line between childhood and what comes after, is speeding toward us like a bullet train, and we’re tied tightly to the tracks. 

This last will run us over soon enough. 

I’ve accepted it. The razor blades are mid-chest level now.