Author's Note: Today, my boyfriend is graduating. Last night, he kind of came to that realization while he was at my house. Today, I wrote about it.

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I opened the door to see him standing there in his button-up shirt and pinstriped black pants, smiling the way he always did when he came over – a small I’m-happy-to-see-you smile. He stepped up and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him before I’d even said a word.

“How was the Baccalaureate?” I asked.

“It was good,” he replied. The response was a little less than enthusiastic, but I didn’t think I ought to push it.

“You look yummy,” I said.

He chuckled quietly. “You just like guys in button-up shirts.”

“Yes,” I said, “but mostly just you.”

He chuckled again.

“Come in, we shouldn’t just stand in the doorway,” I said, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. The living room had quickly become the courting room once we started dating. He never knew how long he had to stay, so we would always end up on the living room couch, sometimes just talking, other times sleeping until the phone in his pocket rang and woke us up.

“I have to be home by ten fifteen – the relatives are here from New Jersey for Graduation,” he said.

“Did they come to the Baccalaureate?”

“No, only my parents. My little cousin was exhausted from driving all night last night to get here. I’m glad they’re coming tomorrow, though.”

We sat down on the floral settee as we did every time he came over. His senior year had been slightly more hectic than he had originally planned – being the Vice President of our school’s chapter of the National Honors Society, President of the debate club, and applying to all the colleges he wanted to apply to had taken a toll on him. Now, it was only fifteen hours before it was all over.

“They showed the Senior Video,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He proceeded, “I really liked it because it was actual video, not just a bunch of pictures put together in a slideshow. They had gone around and asked everyone what their favorite part of High School was. Some of them were really funny.”

“What did you say when they asked you?”

He smiled again, as if reminiscing. “I said the California trip with the band last year.”

I hadn’t even known him when he went on that trip. After seeing each other for seven months, thinking of what life was like before I knew who he was felt strange and foreign to me; even more strange and foreign was the idea that there was a point in time where he didn’t know who I was.

“I’m scared,” he said suddenly.

I shifted in my seat and reached for his hand. “What are you scared of?”

“After tomorrow – after I shake hands with the principal and take that diploma in my hands – everything will change. Everything I’ve ever known will be different. I’ll be in a new town, living with new people, learning new things. And I won’t be with you anymore.”

“Boston’s not that far from here, sweetie. Once I get my license I can drive in and see you sometime on a weekend, and we can spend a whole day in Boston together.”

“But it’s not even just that. I won’t be living with my parents anymore. I won’t be able to see the people I’ve grown up with for the time that I’ve been here. Everything will be different.”

I reached up to him and gently touched his cheek. He managed a weak smile. “But it’ll be a good kind of different,” I said.

I rested my head right over his heart and listened to it beating for a second, my hand still cupping his cheek.

“In two years, this will be me,” I whispered.

“Yep,” he said.

It was then that I noticed that the hand on his face was wet.

I looked up and saw a tear run from the corner of his eye, leaving a trail along his skin. I took a finger and gently wiped it away before kissing the spot where it had stopped.

“I’m so proud of you,” I said. “I don’t think you even know how much.”

He sniffed and let another tear fall. He wasn’t embarrassed.