This is my stake in the ground. We are here. This happened.

Last week, in a period of frantic reflection, I acknowledged the fleeting predicament of my present stage of life. The past few months have been marred by graduate school applications, commencement preparations, and last-minute haggling with PVAMU’s financial aid department… My time here is coming to an end.

In light of this existential reckoning, instead of despairing for naught, I’ve chosen to document my misery. Hopefully, this narrative reportage of my final semester at my beloved HBCU will spark some joy!

As I write this, I near the end of the first week of the semester. As I always do, I’ve been prognosticating my workload for the term. This goes beyond what is listed on my syllabi, and includes what I will invest into my relationships, my extracurricular studies, my spiritual life, as well as professional development. To top that off, I’ll be taking a whopping 22 credits this term, the most I’ve taken by quite some measure.

I’m not sure that I want to get out of this vehicle, but it’s blatantly apparent that we’re going too fast. It’s not lost on me that I’ve anticipated graduation and leaving my home for a while now. There’s an incredibly colorful world beyond the borders of the Lone Star State, and I desperately desire to experience it. And there’s nothing wrong with that! However, to cite the wisdom of the great Ferris Bueller, I also don’t want to miss out on the beauty that lies before me.

This house, the house that I’m sitting in right now, has sheltered me my entire life. That’s 22 years! I can traverse it with my eyes closed, and every curse I administer upon its walls carries with it disdain at its antiquated infrastructure and a nostalgic longing for the younger, more exuberant walls upon which my brother and I used to chart our height. My HBCU, the HBCU that took me in, loved me back to life and showed me all that I was capable of, will only exist as my stomping grounds but a few months longer. For all the grief I extend to my precious Prairie View, it really is the greatest decision I have ever made.

I’d like to take some time to breathe that in.

For all my existentialism, there’s much beauty. There’s more than enough of it to go around too, so I’ll inhale. While the irrevocable conclusion of this wondrous stretch of my life looms large over my head, therein lies a greater reason to reflect and genuflect on what is and has been. So, before the semester gets ahead of me and undoubtedly brings me up to speed, I want to remember to live and love right now.