When your graduation song comes on when you’re in the middle of doing ordinary things in your college bedroom, you think for a split second. Think of the first time the song was chosen, the people surrounding you who agreed on it, the people surrounding you who didn’t, the teachers who encouraged it, the teachers who thought the message wasn’t good enough, the harmonisers around you. The everyone. The everyone who contributed to something which seems so insignificant. But the truth it that my graduation song will always hold a place in my heart for so many reasons. Going to a girls school has a sense of unity to it. Unlike the mixed schools in my town, we were a sisterhood. All 137 of us. Sisters fight, quarrel, compete, and share moments together. Which is exactly what my school encouraged. A sisterhood. My year was the type of year who wanted to be close. Sure, there was differences. But like a sister, if anyone else attacked, we would be attack twice as much. A motto of our school was that “Loreto girls don’t get mad, they get even.”
So it’s so disheartening that the 137 will never be together again. Groups stay in touch, and I know I’ll always be messaging for a catch up which just seems like it will never happen.
But hearing my grad song brought me back to a year ago. Even though I wanted to be on the art committee, my teachers put me in the music group as I was absent and they thought they needed me. I went along with it, as usual, and helped the melody, harmonies and distributing the copies. There was so much conflict over who sang what and such a big fuss over nothing for our ‘performance’ we had to do in front of the teachers who watched us grow up. So in the end it worked out and everyone was happy and a few tears were shed as usual. And we thought that was the end. The graduation was over, and so the song was over.
However, the night of the debs came. At 6am with torn dresses, the smell of alcohol everywhere, the sweat radiating off each and every one of us, the graduation song comes on. All these factors and nostalgia together made each one of us get up for the last time to be together. Belting the awful harmonies, groups who were never that close embraced each other for one last final performance.
To be right there in that moment was something astounding. The unity of 5 years was clear.
Almost a year later and I haven’t seen half of them. It doesn’t mean I can’t message any one of them for a chat. But it means a time of our lives was over. Innocent kids to moody teenagers who eventually turned into adults, and that song was our crossing point.