They Say What Goes Around Comes Back Around

For the record, this account of the story is not true. It hasn't happened and is written in  the future tense as a way of setting up the story. Just an idea:

They say what goes around, comes back around.

I address the women, their parents and families from a podium on the campus’ front lawn.  

Here I am again! I say incredulously, turning in a circle with my arms half-raised, taking it all in. The crowd laughs and claps.

I have been here before, I say.  Twenty years ago, I was a Peace College graduate. I sat where you sit: shaded by these regal oaks, in front of this antique fountain, beneath these columns of Main dorm, with the smell of Krispy Kremes outweighing the scent of magnolias. I sat in a white off-the-shoulder, mermaid-fanned gown, wearing long white gloves and carrying red roses just like you. I walked across this stage and accepted a hand-shake from the president and my diploma from my favorite Dean.

I make eye contact with a girl on the front row. She looks familiar and a little like I did in 1991 – without the bangs. I think I met her earlier in the year and remember that she is the daughter of one of my classmates from 1991. I think her name is Julia.

This visit to campus is the last of the semester, my fourth since the fall. I was a guest lecturer for the freshman writing camp and served on a panel for the college’s literary magazine. When my book was released before Christmas, the President held a reception for me and Julia was on the student planning committee.

I know from her position and seat assignment that she is at the top her sophomore class. She is probably in the top ten academically at this all-woman’s college in the heart of downtown Raleigh. She is alternately smiling and rolling her eyes at her dad, who is dangerously close with his Canon. She is beautiful, just as the rest of the women who have joined her on the lawn.

I was just like you, I say, pointing to the young woman. I was excited, anxious, proud. I was looking forward to my next step: journalism school at the University of North Carolina. I was nervous about how I would deal with a much bigger school, the demands of specialized course work, the risk of seeing boys in class!  But I was proud of what I’d accomplished right here on this campus. I couldn’t see what my future held but I had faith in the expectations. I had a dream in my heart and big goals in my head.

I have to admit, what I really wanted was to be standing right here, giving the class speech to my sister graduates. Months before graduation day, months before the vote for class speaker, I began writing what I would say to express my love for Peace College, the respect for my classmates and that hope for the future. Fortunately for my classmates, another young woman was chosen as speaker. I was disappointed, but she was a wiser writer and the best choice.

And somehow, here I am again. I repeat my line with the same hand-motion and incredulity in my voice and the crowd chuckles.

These are the moments to live for. I call them full-circle moments. I have come full-circle today in many ways. By definition, to come full-circle means to complete a cycle of transition, returning to the point of origin. The inference, of course, is that you are right back where you started, stuck in an endless cycle. But, I think full-circle is a gift from God. These are the moments that mark your growth and tell your story.

You, too, are bound to come full-circle. Your own life will be marked with full-circle events and conversations, dates, places and people. I challenge you to look for them along the way.  What do you look for and why?

First, you might find yourself right back where you started.

I give them examples from my own life. Looking back, the surface moments are easy to spot. Aside from this moment, my home is full-circle:  I live in the home that my parents built when I was in junior high and I’m married to the boy next door. My work is full-circle: the stories I once imagined about my neighbors are now whispers of short stories in my latest book.

When you find yourself right back where you started, you will realize how far you’ve come.

Looking back, I can see how far I’ve come. Of course, I cannot tell them all of that today. They don’t need to know all the events, conversations, dates, places and people -- between graduation and now – that have come back around for me. They don’t want to know the moments where my own hope and faith and expectations were derailed. And I don’t have the time to explain how I got back on track.

Second, you might find yourself stuck in the middle.

I explain that those moments of déjà vu often outnumber the others. How many times did I have the same fight with my mother? How many times did I make the same mistake at work? How many times did I struggle over the same decisions? Blah Blah Blah

When you find yourself in the middle, you will realize how far you have to go. These moments mean you get a second chance. When you know, you grow. You’ll do a different thing, you’ll make the better choice.

When you pay attention to full-circle moments you will find yourself in the end. I know I sound like Oprah. Or even worse, you mother! But, when you find yourself back where you started, you will develop gratitude, stability and maturity. When you find yourself stuck in the middle you will discover wisdom. These will take you farther than English 101 and Business 202. As you leave with your dreams in your heart and goals in your head, look out for the full-circle moments. You know what they say: what goes around comes back around.

I turn from the podium to my seat on the stage and blush at the applause and a standing ovation. I sit. I stand again. The president thanks me with a handshake and a hug and the ceremony is soon over. Women trickle out in single file and circle the fountain in the heart of campus. There is a flood of white dresses, the sound of voices singing the alma mater and a river of tears is shed as everyone whispers goodbye to the girl standing next to her.

I leave the stage and spend the next hour and a half eating éclairs and petit fours and congratulating new graduates. Julia walks over with her mother, her father and his Canon in tow. I hug her mother and we reminisce about our own graduation. Julia is following in our footsteps and transferring to UNC, too. The smile on her mother’s face is contagious, as is the pride she must feel.

May we get a picture with you? Julia asks, quietly.

Absolutely! I say. It would be an honor.

We line up next to an oak tree and his father arranges and rearranges us several times before backing up to take the picture.

Everyone say ‘peace’, he says.

The flash pops on his camera.