The fresh and fatty scent of sunscreen. The rhythmic inhales and exhales of the ocean. The birds chipping in tree crowns as the sun shines its last rays of the day. The slow dining only summer times allow for. The wind on my face when I bike not to school but to friends.
These memories and connected sentiments feel as far away as the moon does as I find myself in the calm before the storm of final exams and farewells to people and places.
It is a time of unknowns. What will happen next year? How will the last weeks of high school play out? Who will I bid goodbye to, and to who will it mereley be a see-you-later? Where will I go, and why will I decide on this?
As I am nearing the end of thirteen years of education and two years of school abroad, I am ceaselessly finding myself speculating about the future—near and far. It is normal to wonder in moments of new times ahead, yet this is the first time I will be standing on my own. This is the first time that the end of the summer holidays is not the beginning of a new school year but the beginning of something I still know nothing about. I am not going to university next year, but then where am I going?
In a world where the rush through school and higher education is seemingly priceless yet also argued against, stepping outside of that race is daunting. It is my own choice, but all choices are followed by questions of right and wrong decisions, and the influence of norms and general perspectives aid not in demystifying what I am about to embark on. What we are all embarking on shortly.
For more than half of my life, I have woken up nearly every day with a planned schedule of the day, the week, the year in front of me, and I needed only to walk out the front door, confidently knowing where I was going. Now, that schedule is running out, and my strides become less and less premeditated as I welcome a year of uncertainty. However, I believe that in that uncertainty—whether it is what university to obtain a diploma from, what country to visit, or what programme to apply to—there lies the power and potential for growth and development. As we seize the next opportunity on our way, we will inevitably learn about the game rules of life. We will be rejected, defeated, disappointed. But with one door closing, another opens, and acceptance, success, contentment will come along.
The most challenging part for me is understanding that part of life outside the comfortable bubble of childhood is discomfort. The first times we are faced with discomfort and repudiation resembles a hit in the solar plexus, and getting up from the ground seems impossible.
Still, with more chapters of life’s book written, hardship paves the way for life lessons, invaluable and vital. Whether what’s next is uni or not, I trust that we will make it to the next chapter, a chapter we can now write on our own, and soon, the recollections of summer will once again become reality. For a short but sunshine-filled moment.
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