My apartment smells like flowers and feels like home for the first time in a long time. Today I finished college for a while, and tomorrow I’ll get a job. I’ve looked forward to this day for a long time, but not because I’m tired of school. Before my grandmother died in 1999, she wrote me a series of letters to be opened as I got older, as I accomplished things. The longest and last of these letter says “college graduation” on the envelope in curly script. I’m afraid to open it, I’m afraid to read her last words to me. I don’t want to say goodbye again. But I’ve been waiting to for a long time. So here goes nothing.