Tassels, iced lattes, and forever more
At last, the long days of high school have culminated to an end. June was filled with graduation events that barely left me a couple of weeks, sometimes days, to catch my breath before another wave of events engulfed me. The years of devouring Disney Channel TV shows had imprinted on my mind a concrete notion of a perfect graduation night (or valedictory as my school calls it): girls with stunning dresses, shiny stilettos, glittery lipstick and boys with smoothly-ironed tuxedos throwing caps under a peach-tinted sunset, while a marching band plays on a vast green stadium. Never had I known my valedictory would take place on a pouring night at a small church, way off on the other side of the city. Rather than putting on a dress like most of my female classmates, I wore a jade áo dài, the traditional Vietnamese attire for women. Underneath the navy graduation gown, only the hind flap and white pants indicated the áo dài, but I was immensely pleased with my outfit. Only after I put my heels on did I know that stepping onto the valedictory stage would be a real hassle. As I stepped wincingly down the stairs, an adventure was ready to begin.
The excitement kept buzzing in on the long ride to the church, which was tucked in a small corner among the vast fields in suburban Richmond. After venturing through the drizzle, I arrived almost soaking wet at the gym adjacent to the church to line up for the procession. I didn't see my family until four hours later, as they entered a different entrance for guests. For an hour before valedictory, all anxieties were gone when I met my friends, who were also dressed to the nines even with the gowns on top. The night started with the grads slowly descending the stairs to our benches, all while the woeful tunes of Scotland the Brave echoing through the vast assembly reminded me of the excruciating marches back when I was in Cadets in grade 9. The procession was carried out smoothly thanks to the rehearsal the day before (which took the entire afternoon at school but was promptly compensated with the biggest burgers I'd ever seen). Following a succession of speeches from authority figures and our principal, the ordeal was set: the individual entrance onto the stage. I could feel all the butterflies in my stomach having the wildest time of their lives as the letters approached N. Before I knew it, I was whisked away to the staircase on the other side of the hall to line up for the entrance. And there it was, Vicky Nuyen (unfortunately the g took a break) stepped on the stage, ears buzzing and eyes squinting from the glaring lights. Hands shaken, tassel turned - and done. Or so I thought during the next two minutes of standing awkwardly on the stage after my name was called to receive some cords :) Only when the ceremony was over did I truly enjoy valedictory as I felt the warmth of my family and friends congratulating each other on all of our achievements.
Two days after valedictory, defying all protests from my circadian rhythm, I woke up at 6 for a hike with my friends at a nearby trail. The weather did not promise a bright day, with the leaden sky casting huge patches of shadow over the school field. However, as we begin venturing through the sleepy houses, the first rays of sunlight began to drop from the maple trees lining the road. Behind the withering azalea bushes, the neighbourhood slowly arose from its deep haze of slumber. The long walk to the trail, which I regarded as a real tribulation to finish during scorching school days, became a breeze as I chatted with my friends all the way through. With valedictory still fresh in our minds, we shared countless peals of laughter over the ceremony: how we all fumbled in the rain to get home afterwards, how one student pulled a stunt that shocked the entire audience (if you know, you know :), or how awkward it would be to still come to school the following two weeks. We entered the trail, which was completely empty except for the weeping birches swinging along with the wind and the chickadees chirping in the blueberry bushes afar. Occasionally, a hiker with their dog would pass by, probably wondering why a group of teens were laughing at any random object in their viewpoint (but how could anyone resist the marvel of ziplock bags hanging on bushes every other 10 meters?) As the sun was arching slowly, we reached our beloved Tim Hortons café, sweat trickling after clocking over 10,000 steps just before 9 AM. The first sips of iced latte just couldn't get better, albeit the forgotten caramel syrup and the decaf espresso shot - but come on, it's Sunday :)
The last day of school came quietly, yet full of bittersweet memories. Except for almost falling asleep twice during the awards ceremony, I enjoyed every single minute of the day. I was barely recovering from last night's sleeplessness as I arrived at Spanish, the first and also final class that I attended at McNair. It seemed like only yesterday that I was fresh off Vancouver, fumbling around the one-story mazelike building to arrive on time for classes. I could only lingered wistfully at the colourful posters of Salamanca cafés, Sinaloa beaches, and Costa Rica fruits tapered all over four corners of the classroom, where we popped countless bags of popcorn and shared infinite laughter over cheesy TV shows all while the "¿Cómo estás?" and "¿Qué hiciste durante el fin de semana?" became more endearing than ever rather than just awkward ice breakers. Flash forward to my spare block, when I used to spend hours toiling at Stats assignments under the vibrant shades of flags around the world hanging above the fishbowls (the main hallway in my school), signifying the school's incredible diversity. But no one could be seen at fishbowls on the last day, as students gathered in their C blocks chatting while others trickled out for Starbucks and Slurpee in the sweltering heat. After helping set up the year-end carnival at the backfield, I sneaked out for my first Slurpee ever (and barely managed to use the ice cream machine with the help of my co-skippers). We made it back to the school just in time for a few rounds of cards before returning to class to get our yearbooks and join the carnival. I almost got sunburnt when not inundated with yearbook signing requests (and hunting down teachers to sign mine as well) until 3 PM, when farewells were bid...
...just to be repeated on Monday, the day of prom. Rather than spending the entire morning doing 15-step skincare routines and testing make-up products, I hopped to Vancouver to join another round of carnival with some friends from my old school. On the way to the school's backfield, I met my former history teacher, who was overjoyed to see this sun-beaten kid all the way from Richmond, as well as some friends who surprisingly recognized me :) I joined my friends at the bouncy castle, where I did three flips in a row, much to the suffering of my neck. Just before 1:30 PM, I returned home with a tongue-chilling cup of lavender malted milk ice cream to prepare for prom at 3. History repeated itself; I was the first one in the class to arrive at the school to be picked up by bus to head to the prom venue downtown. After a few minutes of admiring the empty school in all its glory, I saw my friends trickling in their sparkling gowns and dashing suits. What a marvel to see the class living its fullest life! We chitchatted endlessly and took a stream of photos for an hour and then were all whisked on the buses (only after awkwardly posing for some parents coming by) for Fairmont Vancouver. The night surpassed all of my expectations - we ate heartily, poured out all thoughts we had been too shy to tell each other, and rocked the dance floor for three hours straight. Feet free from the heels and arms linked tightly with the amazing people there, I forgot the passage of time as the beats of Livin' on a prayer echoed through the vast dance floor.
And here I am, typing the last paragraph, probably the longest post on this blog while the night breezes cool down the scorching evening. Saigon greeted me with a tight embrace from the humid air that glued my T-shirt onto my skin, dry as dust after 16 hours of flying from Vancouver. The city is still ablaze in the sun in the morning and rains incessantly in the afternoon, often with thunderstorms sweeping the roof like marching armies. On weekends, I still dwell in airy coffee shops for some iced foam macchiato, laugh over cheeky family conversations, or wander around the mall with my middle school friends, with whom it seemed like seven years have never passed.
Here's to all that made these seven years unforgettable!
(If you've reached all the way here, I owe you a hug ^^)
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