High School Graduation
The ceremony itself took place at the University of Miami. I drove myself there a bit early and had time to slip into one of the practice basketball courts, putting up some shots before it was time to file into the arena. An empty court, with ample space for my thoughts.
I was thinking about Georgia and how quickly I would be leaving Miami after walking across that stage. I was thinking about MIT and how the fall seemed so far away. I was Treasurer of the Senior Board, which meant I was sitting on the stage, and being up there facing the entire class inspired a sense of appreciation for the journey that high school was. I have only been here for 3 years, so I am in many respects a transplant, but I think I’ve done well for myself here. I believe I contributed to this community, and I am proud of my time here. I had an awareness that everyone in front of me was about to dissolve into separate paths, which was such an acute feeling. On the cusp, truly.
With a graduating class of some 1000 students, it made sense to use a university stadium, and being in a venue that size added an aspect of grandeur. The ceremony was not rushed but not lingering; it was not too bad considering the size of the class. My name was called. I walked, I graduated. Someone clapped. Someone else probably took a picture. My gown had stubborn creases because I forgot to iron it that morning in the frantic nature of getting out the door, and even that small detail marked how quickly everything moved. The moment itself was fleeting and even now, two days after, I can’t say I recall the particulars. I do recall considering that this may very well be the last moment I would belong to Miami as a student. Driving home dug that feeling in: the city moved past the car windows the same way it always had, but it carried a different weight. The finality of graduating and the reality of leaving came together to confirm what had been building for months: one chapter was ending and another was beginning.
My mom had set up a small gathering at the house, mostly church friends and some of her doctor friends from work. There were trays of food, people stepping in and out, conversations looping around life, specialties, residencies, and then circling back to me. People asked about college in the usual way, but the conversations were now more forward looking and less presumptive. What was I planning to study, when I was leaving for school, if I was excited for Boston. I answered versions of the same couple of questions for hours, some answers almost verbatim.
My relationship with my immediate older sister had always carried the usual older sibling gap, but I can tell there is a shift coming in which both of us being in university will result in a mutual understanding of more ground between us. I can tell the category I am in at home is changing, and I also notice my parents introducing me with a slightly updated script, still proud of the high school part but leaning more into what comes next.
Today, one of my mom’s colleagues was celebrating moving up in their medical journey, I think finishing residency, and the celebration took place at the Rusty Pelican in Key Biscayne. The restaurant was on the water with Miami spread out in the distance, and inside the room were physicians, residents, and people from all different walks of life. The honoree was cool; I felt we had a lot to talk about. I had just come from my own celebration, and now I was a part of one that belonged to a completely different level. It was like standing at the base of a long staircase and seeing someone turn around from a ways up.
At some point I asked if I could say a few words. A brief felicitation, nothing long. I kept it simple, speaking on the discipline it takes to stay on the long hard path it took to get to residency, and on how encouraging it was to see someone arrive there. I mentioned that I had just graduated high school, that I hoped to join that path in my own time, and that watching this moment gave me a living picture of what could wait on the other side. Being there so soon after my own graduation pushed the timeline to the front of my mind. High school in Miami was important, but in the context of medicine it was an early checkpoint. If everything went according to plan, there would be more ceremonies lined up ahead of me: college graduation; white coat ceremony; medical school graduation; matching into residency, at the minimum, and each with its own programs and photos and speeches. Watching that resident be celebrated confirmed that this route was not an abstract idea and that people were actively walking it.
So yeah, graduation. Going back to the chapter analogy, I do believe high school to have been a good one. I thank God for the opportunity to do all I have done, and for all that he will do in my life. As I start writing the next chapter, I feel this baseless optimism in it being another good one. A great one, even.