Closing Remarks

Hayden Corwin

photo credit: Hayden Corwin

“You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

I imagine someone making this pronouncement to us, the class of 2020, as I listen to the ice in my glass crackle while I pour another scotch. Congratulations are in order. It feels like something should be happening. There should be some type of relief, some feeling of accomplishment, some joy. Shouldn’t there be confetti streaming down, suspended in the air for what seems like forever?

My front lawn is freshly cut, and the rain from last night has formed a small pond in the center. A sparrow dips its beak in and takes a drink. I take a drink too.

I remember when I turned twenty, my girlfriend at the time gave me a book of poetry by Rod McKuen called Valentines. I didn’t open the book until I turned twenty-one. Tucked between the first two pages was a razor blade. It fell into my lap.

Sometimes celebrations are bittersweet. Chinese takeout on Thanksgiving or Christmas is just as nice as a baked ham or turkey, but you might’ve hoped for something more traditional. I often wonder what the difference is between hope and expectation. And what about dreams?

The street is quiet. I can hear the power lines buzzing overhead where they run into the house. An empty beer can rolls across the porch, a breeze bumbles by on its way to somewhere else.

I had to tell my mother that graduation wasn’t going to happen. She cried over the phone.

After I logged off of my last class, I went to the liquor store and bought myself this bottle of scotch. No cheers. No applause. No one patting me on the back and telling me about a future in plastics. No good ole boys driving their Chevy to the levee. The mosquitos are mating on the levee this time of year anyway. They’re a force to be reckoned with.

Hayden Corwin is a writer living in New Orleans. He is a recent graduate of Loyola University New Orleans with a BA in English (creative writing). @HaydenCorwin