A town deflates

My town, which is essentially a company town, dances to the rhythm of the university. Because it is such a huge institution, the tempo shifts dictated by the university's schedule are not small, and this weekend is proof of that. It's graduation weekend. Over the course of the past week, finals week, I've seen the usual convoy of cars stuffed to the ceiling with the entirety of some undergrad's possessions. The cars (usually driven by parents, and most of the time double-parked in front of dorms and apartments) herald the migration of the undergraduates back to their suburban Chicago jobs, homes, and lives. Today is convocation, and so in a week the town will return to its summer-time quiet. It's a day I've looked forward to since all the 35,000 or so students arrived in August, meaning I could no longer find an easy parking spot or table in a coffee shop, had to show up early for movies, and wait in line at the grocery. And yet, there's a feeling of emptiness, as the temporariness of student life once again cycles through- communities and friendships made so fast and firm during the year will be eroded with summer-time absence, only to be resurrected in the fall.

It's times like these that I reflect on my own career path: to shepherd young people into finding and creating themselves (at least that's what I tell myself optimistically). Watching students in their graduation regalia pose for pictures in front of buildings and statues, I remember the feeling of pride and fear- to be ending something they've done their whole lives, and yet buoyant in that ending and the possibilities in it. What will they do with their lives? How will they make their worlds? I realize the comfort of a path chosen, even as I envy them their choice. And yet would I go back? No, most definitely not. I am happy to be in proximity, without wanting to change places. This is a temporary nostalgia; practically by the time the last Chicago-bound minivan hits the road, I'll forget what it feels like to have tens of thousands of late-teenagers and early-twenty-somethings around, and enjoy the ease and elbow room of this place in summer. And, by August I will have forgotten the emptiness of the town, and will once again look up from my work, wonder where the time went and where all the people came from, as we all start the dance again.