--Cheyenne Hamberg
Well gang, we're at that point. That point where all the norm melts away into the bright and terrifying unknown. The point where the baby birds are tossed out of the nest to fly or plummet to their demise. Let's hope most of us can make the jump.
So as I sit here, the realization that this very well will be one of my last
web posts for The Mirror, I begin to wonder what other seniors will miss.
I know for me it's the relationships I've made;
Those friends I've made who put up with my
dorkiness and indulge sometimes themselves. Who've never failed to be at my back when I've faltered to offer a helping hand and a smile, never once judged me for not being as smart or pretty as others but have accepted me just as quirky as I am.
The teachers who've been so kind to me and become my mentors and friends, who've each given me something wonderful to take away from their lessons. You really get to know the teachers at
Norwood, they watch you grow up and they know you. They've always treated me as an adult, as a being of equal intellect, worthy of their time and attention and for that I couldn't be more grateful.
I'll miss all those relationships I've made in the plays where for about two months we become something of a family, all hugs and laughter one moment then cutthroat fights the next. It was something special to be backstage with someone you know you'll never see outside the auditorium and cry with as you finally write your name on the wall, having waited and suffered through countless musicals and plays with this person just to get to that point, all to scribble your name in white out then leave the warmth of the
stagelights and the chill of the concrete steps forever. I'll miss late night practices and Saturday morning rehearsals. I'll miss
whinning about the cast and the play
in general and secretly loving every minute of it. I'll miss those few moments when an entire sea of people are watching you, fixed on your every word and cheering you with applause, not because they were forced to come, but because they wanted to be there, they wanted to see you rise up to a
challenge and soar above expectation.
I'll even miss all those quiet relationships I've made, the ones
nobody's supposed to know about or talk about out loud. The ones with the Time Gods who enjoy making that clock tick just a half a second slower or running it too fast when you're racing to finish something important. My locker, the fiend, as I battled it daily for my books and failed miserably for the first couple years. That voice in my head that soothes when I've failed or inflates my ego when I've excelled. I'll miss the odd acts of kindness in the hallway, the person that smiles and says "excuse me" when they bump into you or the kid that takes the time to just nod a hello when they make eye contact.
I wonder what others will miss about
Norwood, what they won't say
outloud because it's uncool or so small they think no one will care. I wonder if many of these people even realize what they have and how much they're going to miss it when they leave.
I know I will and every time I walk through the halls of
NKU, feeling small and uncertain if I can find my way on the big scary road of life, I'll think of all you and the special things we shared and I'll feel that I'll always have people at my back to help me.
And I thank all of you for that.