And they were huddled close together, their tassels all flipped from one corner to the next. They were ready for one last night together, and then, ready to turn the corner of their own lives. And there would likely be heartfelt congratulations and tearful goodbyes amongst each other and with their families and friends that had come so far to watch this rite of passage, to see them off on the journey of their lives. And there was this crescendo inside of him, this rising tide in his soul as the thrum of energy rose in him and in everyone around him and a great cheer went up and they tossed their caps into the air and he tried to watch his, to see where it fell but it mixed with so many others and was suffused by the light in the bright blue sky and he simply smiled and let go, and let whatever cap fall into his hands that may. Then it was over and he felt baptized, a child reborn with an ill-fitting cap tilted to one side on his head. Yet at the same time he felt like so many of his firsts, as if nothing at all had happened or changed and he knew from experience that the impact would come later, that the change would be gradual and he stood there in the sun, shaking everyone’s hands and he kissed a girl or two on the cheek, hardly even seeing who they were, and he felt overwhelmed as the cheers echoed from the crowd, as if he was a star wide receiver on this hallowed football field and the crowd was cheering just for him. He walked to the stands where his family waited to greet him, as the roar died down, and his mother and father standing there, smiling and he smiled back at them. And he felt like there was nothing else in all the world to say or do, so he only hugged them softly, and his mother smoothed his robes with a tear in her eye, and her two sisters said kind words and patted him on the shoulder. Then he turned and he saw her of all people two rows back. Sarah, hugging her father and looking like every woman he’d ever loved. He wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake on that rainy night when he let her walk away. He wondered if there was any way to repent a mistake like that, though he’d heard men say, when a woman’s gone she’s gone. Their eyes met for a moment and he looked away embarrassed, and it felt like he was turning out the light for the last time in a house he’d once lived in, but now was moving the last boxes from and for some reason he tasted her lips on his, just the way they’d tasted on the first night they ever kissed, on a dark street, the night’s drinks clinging to her breath. He never heard the congratulations that swirled all around him, he was watching her walk away, arm in arm with her parents, he was watching her walk out of his life.