By the time anyone reads this, the number of school days left will be in the single digits. All around me, things that have been part of my life since last August are ending: I’m completely finished with both orchestra and band concerts, I’m finally waking up at a reasonable time due to the end of jazz band, and the gorgeous weather outside reminds me that, in a few short days, I’ll have to say my permanent goodbyes to the 2017-2018 year. (Seriously, though, does anyone actually remember anything about 2017? It seems like it was lifetimes ago, like the sophomore who walked in these doors for the first time a few months ago has been gone for centuries)

I’ve never been a fan of change-just yesterday I was yelled at for failing to replace the computer mouse that I was sure still worked-but the universe doesn’t take my wishes into account when it’s continuing its unstoppable passage of time. (I’m happy to report that some things never change. I struggled with the spelling of “jubilant” for a good thirty seconds both while writing the title and the actual text of this article.)

But although I’m always hesitant to let time slip through my fingers like sand, I’m genuinely glad when I look back on what this year has been. I’ve met new, wonderful people, learned more than I ever dreamed was possible, and done things that scared the living daylights out of me (looking at you, Expedition Everest. Shout out to the entire marching band for somehow convincing me to actually ride a roller coaster.) That, of course, is change too, the kind of change I tend to ignore when I’m stressing about what could happen next. Maybe that’s what I’ll try this summer, while I’m searching for myself and doing what I’d do if I didn’t have any restrictions and all that: staying in the moment, taking change if and when it comes to me, treasuring every second I can while I wait for the time to, once again, pass me by.