Remembering the day to be remebered

I took almost forty minutes choosing what to wear for my college farewell then changed twice before leaving home. My mother adjusted my coller near the door and asked me to smile for the photograph. I laughed unaware that, that ordinary morning would become difficult to forget.

The campus looked strangely beautiful that day. Fairy lights decorated the auditorium, juniors rudhed around carrying bouquet and everyone seems determined to capture every moment. My friends complained about uncomfortable shoes while fixing each other hairs using phone cameras. Between photographs and laughter nobody wanted to admit what we were actually celebrating.

During the speeches, I kept looking at the familiar faces around me. The boy who slept through morning lectures was crying. The girl who borrowedbmy notes every semester was hugging our professer. Even the strict lecture who terrified us before examination smiled proudly. Somehow we had all become part of something.

After the ceremony, everyone began signing shirts and exchanging handwritten notes. My friend write "Don't become a stranger after getting a job". I laughed and promised er would meet every month. Then she asked whether I genuinely believed that and neither of us could answer. We simply hugged longer.

The moment that broke me happened near the staircase. I found our quietesf classmate sitting alone staring at our photographs on his phone. When I asked what was wrong, he admitted he had never actually felt included but college had still have something and somewhere for him to belingm suddenly, me own memories felt different.

I walked past the classroom where I had once cried after failing a test, the canteen where we shared affordable meals, 5 people sharing 2 cups of tea, the corridor where friendship began accidentally. None of these places looked special individually. Yet together, they had versions of ourselves that would never exist quite the same way again.

As evening approached, we gathered outside for one final group photo. Everyone shouted, adjusted positions and complained about blinking at the wrong time. The photographer finally captured us properly. Looking at the picture afterward, I realised we were smiling because the camera was there not because anyone knew how to say good bye.

On the ride home, my phone filled with photographs, embarassing videos and promises to stay connected. I saved everything although I know that some of the conversations we have will only become occasional birthday wishes. Perhaps growing up means loving people without knowing how long they will stay. And that night just like today, I miss a place I haven't even left completely.