i watched as girls walked the halls one las time with tears falling down cheeks.

i think of what oxymoron can descibe this experience.

bittersweet?

absent presence?

visible darkness?

the stairs with footprint stains and cracks from girls past running to class, or to lunch. 

the bricks with new paint but the same foundation could tell stories of girls pulling their skirts down when they passed by a teacher.

tyler lane was a home for most. an escape from the world to focus on a future the factuality, staff, teachers, and mentors saw in them.

i stand watching them exit, it is bittersweet 

the stairs , the walls, the building. the seniors and past seniors may be gone but they are always here. the long lasting gift of community a constant absent presence at assumption.