The Leanover.

A man is never more a single separate self than when he sets out on a journey.

-John Dos Passos

It appeared in my yearbook. The singular quote floated on the front pages. It meant something to me. I reread the line, at first to myself, then aloud, quietly, as I scanned from picture to person to perfection.

I cried. I did not mean to cry but then again, I don’t mean to do a lot of things that occur in my life. I don’t know why the tears decided to fall at that precise moment in which I lost control of the feelings I felt I didn’t possess.

The school yearbook comes out on the last week after school. The thousands of students were overjoyed with anticipation. They pranced around the field house in their sweaty gym clothes during physical education. Their minds nervously stared at the clock during their English class. The vastly important lecture in AP American History was tuned out of their delicate ears.

Their hearts were in a different place.

Asking people to sign my yearbook has always been a big deal to me, but this year, it was especially important. I was a senior. I would never have to see these people again.

And so I proceeded with caution. There were only a handful of people that I truly wanted to remember. Those words, those statements meant more to me than trying to get everyone to write a message. I saw people like that. I know people like that. Julie said,

“I want to remember everyone.”

Her words were sincere.

I had made the transition, if not effortlessly, than at least with a good sense of myself. I closed the book. I grabbed a tissue from my bag and wiped the salty tears while taking a deep breath.

"Are you sad that it's over?" Rachel asked.

No, I thought. I'm happy that it's just beginning.