Senior Year


Freedom is a full tank of gas, the wind in your hair, the date on the calendar.

It tastes like the sun that comes and melts the snow away, and smells like the fair that comes to town, bringing elephant ears.

It chases down the painted lines of the street and darts along with your shadow.

Freedom is no homework, weekends of doing only what you want, and no one telling you to finish your broccoli.

It rings in the final bell of school and resonates down your spine. It is the tension of waiting, waiting, waiting.

Freedom is an acceptance letter. Another dorm room purchase. Another month gone on the calendar. 

Freedom is the quiet hum of the audience at graduation.

It is your parents' proud and tearful smiles. 

It is the month of May.

Freedom comes when you count down the days, but also when you least expect it.

Are you ready?


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