Dear reader,
We all have our soothing routines or traditions: some people wear the same socks for each game or bring lucky charms to tests. For me, it’s breakfast.
I eat peanut butter toast with banana slices every morning before my run. I stumble downstairs and pop some bread in the toaster even before turning the kitchen lights on. It’s a comforting ritual that I can practically do with my eyes closed.
As my last year of high school starts, I’ve clung to this routine more than ever. It’s one less thing to think about in the morning, and one more thing I can rely on as so many other things get less certain.
Lately, as I listen to the fatalistic, ominous way my fellow seniors talk about our last year of high school, I’ve started to think that our rituals aren’t just about comfort anymore. Now, it seems like we’re sticking rigidly to things we’ve always done in a desperate hope that nothing will change.
But, of course, everything does. So how do we become less scared of what’s ahead of us?
Maybe by sticking my head in the sand and making the same breakfast over and over again. Maybe by ignoring the fact that I don’t know where I’ll be studying in a year, since the possibilities make me feel dizzy already.
Or maybe by opening up to the possibilities and growing more flexible every day. By appreciating the good things so much that it doesn’t hurt when they’re gone.
As much as I’m scared of the future, I’m even more worried by the thought of living a stationary life and clinging to my routines forever.
As much as I’m scared of the future, I’m even more worried by the thought of living a stationary life and clinging to my routines forever. I want to learn new languages, meet new people and read as many books as I possibly can. To take nothing for granted. I want to meet myself in the future and know I’ve become someone different, and hopefully someone better. So amid the clouds of anxiety hanging over my head about where I’ll end up next year, I put my faith in the uncertainty. I am trying to beat back my fear, and turn it into anticipation. I am excited for what will happen next, and I always want that to outweigh anything else.
So while it’s true that this is my last year going to school with all of my childhood friends, I refuse to believe that the impending changes will separate us in any permanent, irreversible way. This time next year, I’ll still call my parents and FaceTime my best friends every day. None of this will really end — just shift sideways, a little bit, into something both new and old.
I still make peanut butter banana toast every morning, and it’s just as delicious as it was when I first started running years ago. Sometimes, though, I use Nutella instead of peanut butter. Sometimes I make oatmeal, and sometimes I don’t have time to eat anything at all before I run out of the house to get to practice.
I no longer fear the twists and turns my life will take next week, next month or next year. Truthfully, I can’t say I’m always good at letting go of my worries, but in this case, I’m trying.
With hope,
Abby
