The Last Year

I was talking yesterday with two of my good friends about the end of the last year at school and what this means for everyone.

I remember when I first came to Orewa College in a skirt- pants that dont seam in the middle at the crotch, split into two leg holes and zip up at the front? SHOCK AND HORROR (and even to this day, it's one of the only two I own), and when I graduated into the senior population, travelled around the world to Spain on 24 hour return flights and rode a Hummersine to my first Ball in the Auckland Museum as if all of it happened in just one week.

And now, sitting here at the dining table in my house with my back to the deck and the curtain pulled slightly to avoid the glare of the sun as the rain pours down (go figure) nearing the end of term two and the halfway mark for the year, I realise we havent got much time left- it goes so fast, and I feel anxious that I havent been making the most of it- and we only realise our time is running out when we can see the leaving dates on our calendars, or the memos that show up on our phones the fortnight before as a reminder. And even then, it really only hits us when we're waving goodbye to our friends and family from behind the glass on the second story of the airport, looking down on them as they walk through duty free and, all too soon, they are out of sight. But not out of mind.

In my defense, I've tried to get involved in everything that interests me this year at school. I secured my position as Captain of the 1st XI Girl's Hockey team (and I'm proud of my girls, despite the moments of anger and frustration accumulated for some of them), joined the 2011 Ball Committee, tried my luck as a Latin dancer in the 2010 Stage Challenge, competed in the OCR Monetary Policy Challenge (LOL jk, our report was so hackneyed the Reserve Bank probably thought we were taking the mickey out of them), spent the 40 Hour Famine in a makeshift tent in a bush, been involved with the Performaing Arts and Disciplinary (and hopefully soon, the ITC) Committees as Student Rep on the BOT, wandered the streets of Orewa at night on several occasions and indulged in numerous restaurant outings, shopping excursions and movie dates with the girls. Ahead of me there is a flight to Wellington to visit Victoria University for the weekend, a trip to the snow, a cocktail night in my Sister's house, my 18th birthday, a mixed hockey tournament in Napier, and the 8 long weeks of summer.

I feel like this year, I have been pushing myself further than I ever have... but how is that going to stall the oncoming of the last day of school?

This will be a whole new experience for me: leaving The Group.

Starting out as small cliques from different primaries in year 9, and merging and growing over the years to become a group of over 30 personalities (now with girlfriends and boyfriends), all with different positions in the small community- best friends, mutual friends, team mates, class mates and historical connections. The Group is a giant entity now, choc full of brains, braun, talent, diversity, relationships and memories. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be on the last day that I ever get to see this group as a whole. How will I know that that day has come? Will anyone be missing on that day, therefore prompting me to ask: How will I know when it's the last time I will see them?

There's no question about it- I will end up crying. It's inevitable for someone like me, who struggles, and, more often than not, fails to hold it in even if Im watching someone else cry- on television. Im hopeless. But I wont be the only one, thankfully.

So, even just thinking about going my own separate way (looking in context of 'the end' of a chapter and not 'the beginning' of a new one) makes me fidgety and eager to whip out my camera, and start snapping away at everything Ill be missing out on when I leave. Ive already taken several shots of my house, where I sit when I type up my homework and surf the net, where my brother sits all day playing on his laptop, where my cat likes to sit in the sun and taunt the youngest of my two dogs, Shemo, who throws herself into a staring contest with him in the hopes that he will come outside to play. I'm scared to think ahead to when 'seeing everyone the next day at school' is no longer an option. But its unavoidable, and the only thing I can do to prepare myself is to 'make the most' of the company of my family and friends, and preserve the special moments Ill be left with at 'the end'.