The class was full. It had been a long time since every student was in one room at the same time. It was the preliminary presentations for our final year project. I was the third to present. As I bowed my head to go through my project one more time, I got lost in my thoughts.
“This could be the last time I get my colleagues and lecturers attention,” I supposed, letting my mind wander. I motioned to the right and saw my lovely desk-mate Ruth with that engrossed look to her PowerPoint presentation trying to make it better. On my left, was Nerea. A tenacious young lady, a bit nervous but ready to showcase her project watched the proceedings with manifest interest.
“Chelal! Chelal! You are next,” my senior lecturer’s loudly spoken words were intended for my ears.
“It is time,” I whispered as Ruth gave me a tug and asked if I was nervous.
A semester of goodbyes.
My heart is breaking as I remember how it used to be way back in high school. The security we thought we had of a life controlled by our mortal and limited minds, would later appear to be just a dream that we will never know the beauty or pain of its reality.
My friends, where art thou?
The lessons we slept as the teacher went about his duty, either of two reasons: he was boring or we spent the night debating between Ronaldo and Messi – the best of the best. The music we jammed to as we washed our clothes on Saturday and the longing for the next PE lesson to take revenge having already taken a biteful of taunts. The picture we painted of a life outside school, and how close we will be, came crushing with a great thud – a mourning so deep, but not showy.
The 54 day lecturers strike came to an end and I am back for my final semester at The University. Yes, last three months of campus life. I am excited to be honest but do excuse me for not jumping on the table.
I may not see some of my good friends ‘ever’ in my life (not talking of social media).