I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately. What it means to fill time, to waste time, to enjoy, treasure, lose, gain time. For most of my life, I remember viewing time as this indefinite, vast sea of possibility. I was young, the world was big, my heart was excited, and my dreams were without boundaries.

Five days ago, I graduated college. I walked across a stage, shook some hands, smiled a lot, and celebrated this undeniably impressive accomplishment. I stayed up late into the night with my friends, the time on the clock of no real importance to us - if we could just have one more hour, one more hug, one more laugh.

It’s hard to know exactly what to do with my time now… Do I rest? Do I work? Do I reflect on the memories that were, what once was, who used to be? When I was little, I remember playing “house” with my cousins - always arguing over who got to be the “cool” older sister in college. College was fictional - it was so far away, in space and time, that it was easy to feel detached from any of its realities.

The toughest thing about time is that we tend to always want it to do something it inherently can’t. Speed up, slow down, freeze, fast forward. We forget how to sit in its arms, right where we are, existing in its company and its currency.

I have yet to crack the code on how to not wish with every ounce of my being I could rewind the clock, reverse time, and go back. Those times on the porch, the way the sun so perfectly hit the pillows of the couch, where friends sat, shared meals, shared stories, shared worries. The dancing, in the early hours of the morning, where we laughed together, drinks spilled, and hair tied up in messy ponytails. The drives as colors painted the Indiana sky, our destinations different every time - bowling alleys, ice cream shops, antique malls. The all-encompassing feeling of forever - of memories to look forward to, memories to hold on to, memories that would come with all of our time together.

It’s scary to admit that in a sense, our time in this space has run out. We packed up our bags, lousily cleaned out our houses, said tearful goodbyes. The porch couch was moved, leaving space outside the front door for the next memories to be made, by people who aren’t us, in time that isn’t ours.

I am slowly figuring out how to cope with the feeling of running out of time - reminding myself that we are young, we are naive, inexperienced, and new in the realm of the real world. I hope that I never stop having couches on my porch, dance parties at three in the morning, walks with friends to get a soft serve cone, and watching the sunset. Time belongs to us - it is and has always been ours. I am so proud of the way I have filled, wasted, enjoyed, treasured, lost, and gained time in these years. Each minute a piece in my four-year puzzle, where I met friends I have always dreamed of having, made memories that far surpassed all expectations, and fell in love with the stronger, kinder, wiser, sillier, fuller version of myself I am today. To this space - and this time - I will forever be indebted.

Love Thee - today, tomorrow, and for the rest of time.

Good Luck!

Callie