High school graduation--the bittersweet feelings are as much a part of me now as they were twenty-one years ago. As graduation day approached, excitement increased. Being out of high school meant I was finally coming of age. Soon I would be on my own, making my own decisions, doing what I wanted without someone looking over my shoulder and it meant going to school with boys--a welcome change coming from an all-girl high school. There was never any question in my mind that I would go to a college away from home. My mother's idea, on the other hand, was just the opposite. Trying her best not to force her preferences on me, she would subtly ask whether I had considered particular schools--all of which happened to be located in or near my hometown of Chicago. Once it was established that, as long as the expenses would not be too heavy a burden on the family budget, I would be going away anyway, my family's perspective changed. Their concern shifted from whether I was going away to how far. The schools I was considering on the East Coast suddenly looked much more attractive than those in California. But which college I would attend was just one of what seemed like a never-ending list of unknowns: What would college be like? Would I be unbearably lonely not knowing anyone else who was going to the same school? Would the other students like me? Would I make friends easily? Would I miss my family so much that I wouldn't be able to stand it? And what about the work--would I be able to keep up? (Being an A student in high school seemed to offer little assurance I would be able to survive college.) What if the college I selected turned out to be a horrible mistake? Would I be able to transfer to another school? Then panic set in. My feelings took a 180-degree turn. I really didn't want to leave high school at all, and it was questionable whether I wanted to grow up after all. It had been nice being respected as a senior by the underclass students for the past year; I didn't enjoy the idea of being on the bottom rung of the ladder again. Despite months of expectation, nothing could have prepared me for the impact of the actual day. As the familiar melody of "Pomp and Circumstance" echoed in the background, I looked around at the other figures in white caps and gowns as we seriously lined into the hall. Tears welled up uncontrollably in my eyes, and I was consumed by a rush of sadness. As if in a daze , I rose from my seat when I heard my name called and slowly crossed the stage to receive my diploma. As I reached out my hand, I knew that I was reaching not just for a piece of paper but for a brand-new life. Exciting as the future of a new life seemed, it wasn't easy saying good-bye to the old one--the familiar faces, the familiar routine. I would even miss that chemistry class I wasn't particularly fond of and the long travel each day between home and school that I hated. Good or bad, it was what I knew. That September, I was fortunate to attend a wonderful university in Providence, Rhode Island. I needn't have worried about liking it. My years there turned out to be some of the best years of my life. And as for friends, some of the friendships I formed there I still treasure today. Years later, financial difficulties forced my high school to close its doors for good. Although going back is impossible, it's comforting to know I can revisit my special memories any time. The author's mother   _  .
did not care very much which college her daughter went to was greatly disappointed at her decision to go to a college on the East Coast willingly allowed her to go to a college of her own choice wished that she would study at a college or university close to home