I've caught myself starting to count up lasts.
My last trip to Mayfair. My last 8th week at MSOE. Etcetera, etcetera. I've been trying to avoid the whole thing since it seems like an express route to self-pity and mourning, neither of which I have time for at this stage of the game. Still, it is strange to think that, three weeks from now, I will be packing up my life and leaving Milwaukee with no intention of returning. Then, two weeks after that, I will kiss my childhood home goodbye and drive nine hundred miles southeast to start all over again. It's a funny feeling to be sure.
It's difficult to shift from counting lasts to anticipating firsts.
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