I've been in college for about three months now, and I still find myself struggling to say goodbye to the world that I lived in for the passed eighteen years. I'm two hours away from home and car-less. Therefore, there is not a lot of room to go back when you're homesick. I only go back roughly every three or four weeks, and it can be rough when all you want is a great bagel. Now and then, I find myself going through my box of things from home. They're stuff and activities to look at when I'm homesick. There is anything from puzzles to puppets to books in it.

However, at the bottom of this box was a piece I had written to perform at graduation. Unfortunately, I was not selected, but I still gave the piece to all of my friends in their senior letters. Looking at the piece this weekend, I was reminded of the memories that we had made together through my four years in high school. Even though it has been months since I've seen them, it reminded me that they aren't that far away. Hopefully, my poem can help some of you who are stuck in the same homesickness slump that I was.

"My Box"

As these students cross this stage to say goodbye, there are plenty of thoughts racing through their minds. They're thoughts of the future, of college roommates and tuition costs. Even if they haven't started shopping and packing yet, they're making the mental lists and boxes in their heads. Obviously there are the essentials to bring: the new bedding, towels and clothes. So what do you bring with you from your high school days? Most people will bring some of their awards or some old school shirts. But what about the intangible stuff?

I’ve been forming relationships with the people sitting in front of me for years now. How do I leave all of this behind? How do I get past Freestyle Fridays and roll call questions? How do I wake up knowing that there won't be my childhood friends waiting for me in the nest every morning? I wish that I could say that this part is easy. I wish that I could say that I haven't already cried, and I truly wish that this day won't be a final goodbye for some of us. However, I am comforted by the immortal words of A. A. Milne; “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

So, what is in my mental box? It's stuffed to the brim. It's filled with memories of A.P. Language discussions and cramming for A.P. Physics tests. If you dig around, you'll find the excitement over my first Latin oration and the sadness about kissing the stage goodbye. Therefore, as I close--not end--my speech, I'd like to invite all of you to keep that box on you always. Because there are truly no goodbyes in the world if the people you love are only a memory away.