The long way Home

Today

Is the tomorrow

We worried about Yesterday

-Anonymous 

Graduation was overrated, but still, it had come. On the mirror were the stick-it notes, varied in color and size, a reminder for all mundane routines. Pick up dress from cleaners’, change battery in camera, get a facial, and shop for… everything.  An orange one on the dresser read, don’t forget presents. The orange shade stuck out like a sore thumb, nearly unavoidable to the eye.

Most of the notes were already crumpled up or crossed out in blue ink, on their way to the trash bin. Shopping was done, prom was long past and the presents were purchased. All the notes could be disposed of. All except one. Well, this was mostly because it wasn’t a task. It was more of a mission statement, or at least an adopted one.

Be nice, read the purple stick-it note, in perfect cursive handwriting, you’d think it was run off the computer. Long ago I’d read that mission statements were forged by your own hand, assuming that in this case, you’d abide by its rules. Not so here. This cryptic, perhaps all-encompassing rule was the creation of my sister, Gemma. She hadn’t meant for it to be overbearing, at the time she was only being helpful. Or at least, helpful on her own terms. Gemma was the type of person who blew in and out of the house like the wind, making a mess before leaving again. Not that I was one to talk. My own bedroom was in complete disarray, clothes piling up on the floor and books threatening to bury my desk forever. Later, I told myself, casting a look at my prom dress that lay haphazardly across a cushioned stool. The yards of fabric brushed the carpeted floor, the vibrant color spilling all over the place. Throwing a brief glance at the mirror I put my procrastination to an end. My hair was done up as best I could, and my clothes were perfect for wearing under the graduation cape.

Although there was no real sense in wearing one outfit only in order to change into another, I slung an extra bag over my shoulder nonetheless.

Skipping down the front steps of the stone porch before the house, I doubled back on myself in order to lock it. The small shiny key glinted in the summer sun, silver on its matching chain around my neck. Originally, I hadn’t wanted to wear a house key around my neck, but when my mother got the lock on the house changed the other year, I happened to like the small trinket. Most people tended to think it was an actual piece of jewelry rather than the real key to my home, but I let them. After all, there was no use in having kids know that if you misplaced your necklace, you were locked out, and they could go in.   

As I pulled up to my high school I swerved neatly into a parking spot, narrowly missing the sidewalk. Gemma always said it was a miracle I had passed my driving test. I told her it was because there were much worse drivers around home, that in comparison to them, I could qualify as adequate, if not a remotely safe, driver. 

Already from the lawn of the school it was evident that graduation had come. Streamers and banners hung from the building, bright colors flashing in the bright sun. Families teamed up for photos and girls in denim shorts ran around, chased by the guys holding open beer bottles. It looked like the event was over, but it hadn’t even begun.

As I slammed the door of my Porsche, a bright green Boxster, shut with my hip, I shoved my feet further into my turquoise flip flops. I could practically feel the hot cement beneath the plastic shoe. 

Blinking in the light, I pushed my sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose, brushing some loose wisps of hair off my face. Thankfully, there was a bit of a breeze.

   “Hey, over here!” Carmen’s auburn curls bounced around her shoulders. Handing me a metallic-blue graduation cape, I pulled it over my head as she said, “It’s the day we’ve all been waiting for, girl. Smile!” at her order, I mustered my best grin, and replied; “I can’t believe it! We’re graduating!” more friends fell into place beside us, detaching themselves from the throng of students patrolling the green grounds.