that I would be walking - no, running - away. That I would have that mysterious thing called "closure." That the day I moved, I'd be there to carry my own suitcase. That I wouldn't want to make blueberry pancakes with berries from the bush in the yard one more time.
That I wouldn't be struggling with tears 200 miles away. Maybe in the yard. Maybe in the car. Maybe, even, in the old clubhouse where we traced our names in ballpoint pen every summertime. Not in a dorm room, alone, and unsure.
I miss the lilacs already.
Summer will come again, as it always does, everywhere in the world. I knew this day would come, as in some form it does for us all. For now, it's time to forget what I thought would happen and realize this is what IS happening.
There is no shame in crying, even if there is confusion.