I’m not an extremely emotional person. But towards the end of every school year I break down a little bit.

It’s crazy looking back to the beginning of each school year and thinking of how I started. What classes was I in? What was I stressed about? What hopes did I have? What schools were I applying to? Who was I in touch with? Who was I interested in? Who was interested in me? What were my goals? What memories had just been made? Who was I mad at? Who had I just forgiven? What new friends had I made? What were my reservations? Etc

And then I think about where I am now. I know what classes I was in. I know what grad school I am going to. I know who I stayed in touch with. I know where my hope lies. I know who I am interested in and what did or did not happen. I know what goals were completed and which are still hanging. And I know all my new friends well.

I start each year with questions, I finish each year with answers.

There is something about this lack of mystery which really hurts my heart.

Sure, there will always be questions. There will always be SOMETHING I never found out/wasn’t sure about. Or whatever. But with the end of every year comes the realization that I know EXACTLY what this year was like. It is almost completed. Just a few concluding paragraphs, and it will become another chapter in the book of my life.

And this knowledge makes me look at everything differently. It makes me look at Bible study in Laura’s pool as something to be cherished. Laughing with Haley as we plan study is viewed as a treasure. Yelling at Daniel for the millionth time is a keepsake. Rubbing bellies with Alexa every afternoon is a Kodak moment. Driving around with Caytlin is precious. And so on.

I know it’s not over yet. I know I still have like three weeks. But it’s hard not to miss everyone and everything already.