It feels like I should be complaining again. It feels like I should be looking up another mountain that awaits me for a hike. It feels like they should be telling me to risk my life again, or as they say “step beyond your boundaries.” It feels like I should be listening to another rumor about one of my friends scarred from rolling down the mountain or unconscious from falling off a bike. But even the worst is over now. Think about it, it’s officially the end to all of this. This was our first last experience.

My memories are blurred of our very first experiential education trip—all that comes to mind is the midnight color tag. When everyone was thrilled to catch Pokemon due to the new Pokemon Go trend. When everyone was indifferent to each other. When the gender split was clear. When no one was willing to step on stage for the open mic. The sand cold, lights dim, rain pouring. I ran around without the fear that others would look down upon me. 

Then the shock of sophomore year rushed in when nothing went as expected. The only snapshot vivid enough to recall is practicing weeks before the trip during autonomous blocks to master my biking skills, which I haven’t achieved to the present day. Hearts were broken when a friend of mine was wounded quite severely. Barely knowing him at this time, I prayed that he could return safely to become one of my close friends—one of the few goals I’ve actually accomplished over the past three years. There was probably another hike, still lost somewhere in my memory. 

The year of academic pressure, stress, and indescribable anxiety began. Everyone regularly wearing a frown, clearly sensitive. High school drama engulfed me, yet there was a lack of time to even listen. On the other hand, after a strenuous hike, all these juniors sprinted to the beach, snapping photos. The first time I’d seen this many beaming smiles. Even better, our Interstellar (named after my advisor’s last name, apparently the same as Christopher Nolan) advisory grilled pork and cooked a special army stew, where we secretly snuck in ramen soup base. Running out of time, as the second round of cooking began, six of us gathered in a small circle on the floor to finish our meal. “So insanitary,” someone insisted as they passed. Ironically, a few of them approached us for a bite or two. The last day, singing—more like mumbling—to “Bohemian Rhapsody” on the bus, there was nothing more I could ask for. Until then, I imagined this was the best experiential education trip. 

This year, there was more. After spending three years with the same advisory, it was gloomy news to hear every single member was split apart. I missed the only block with the most odd, yet humorous group of people, especially my five-year best friend Rachel. Fitting into this new advisory, I found it difficult to be myself. There was no Andy, our personal jukebox, to hum along with; no Leo to make stupid jokes; no Andrew to tease about “Closer”; no Brian making a fuss about the most trivial activities; no two Claires to gossip all night long with; no Eun Seob to rely on; no Chris to chuckle with; no Jason with blaring speakers. Luckily, we did have Stephen opening a concert of his own during open mic. The second day, I was told to climb these mountains, which was my first attempt to overcome my extreme fear of heights—another check off my list. Although my bestest peers were not beside me, I took Mr. Poullard’s word of advice for the first time: “one step at a time.” After all, the school’s message wasn’t so meaningless. With the hike cancelled from rain, I was glad to greet my friends on the beach once again. The same beach from freshman year, but some aspect of it was so different. Nostalgic. A moment I hoped to remember forever. 

Listing all these trips, my emotions are jumbled. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to say. But an unknown feeling inside me is silently wishing this wasn’t the last one. Maybe I should’ve absorbed the stunning views more or expressed my thoughts through journals more often. At the moment, I refused to write, because it felt like a waste of time. Now, I realize how much it matters. I sincerely hope in the future, I learn to live in the moment and enjoy it as it is.