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There are some strange goings on in the world this week. When I woke this morning, I looked out my window, where I discovered that the willow in my backyard had grown leaves overnight. Birds were sitting on telephone lines, singing. For the first time this year, I cracked open the window above my bed to let a crisp breeze flow through the room.

It’s spring — and while I’m not ruling out the possibility of a freak blizzard — it’s increasingly clear to me that a lot of things are ending. In 11 days, I walk across a little stage, get a handshake and step off into the next chapter of the novel of my life. It’s too bad I don’t have the rest the plot outlined.

When I was young, I believed in the popular myth that one day, by magic, I would be transformed into an adult in a blinding flash of light and credit card statements. Instead, I’ve found that growing up is a gradual, imperceptible process. We mature little by little without even noticing it, like red wine in a cellar. Then, one day, we realize that we became an adult years ago and that it’s an unending process of refinement.

And then, you stand in your driveway, dumbfounded and wondering how you got here. Still, it’s not like I’ve been sleepwalking through life. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. I’ve loved and I’ve lost and I can proudly say that I was conscious for all of it.

In 11 days, a significant part of my life ends, but I’m not ready for the nursing home just yet. I’ve got more mistakes to make and I can’t wait to get started. Here goes nothing.

That’s one small step for grad, one giant leap for grad-kind.

— 30 —

Wow, that was sappy. If you thought that was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet. My Twitter feed will make you cry: @jonnyeberle.

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