Last Night of the World
January 16th, 2008 by 1st Lt Prifogle
My best friend Cara and I have been friends since the 6th grade (coincidentally she was a co-founder of the ‘I hate Libby Club’ during our elementary school’s fifth grade ‘Girl War’ the previous year). We were inseparable throughout our high school days but went to different colleges on opposite sides of the state. The night before we left for college we celebrated by doing what we always did – bought junk food (pizza, chocolate chips and Pillsbury croissants, jelly beans, candy corn and IBC Cream Soda) and sat in the kitchen talking. It was our “last night of the world” tradition. Whenever a trip or big life changing event was upon us we would always say, “it’s the last night of the world!!” and then we would go through our tradition and live like it really was the last night of the world.
In retrospect it was a silly thing to say - we were not in danger except for where life would take us next. I’ve been out of high school for almost eight years and I’m amazed at the different places my decisions and the course of fate in my life have taken me. It was never the last night of the world – it was usually the beginning of something new and exciting.
Now, I find myself in a situation where it is the last night of the world only this time it really feels like it is the last night of the world. I’m not sure how I’ll celebrate tonight but it will include laughter to the point of tears, ’see you in 7 months’ (no goodbyes), lots of hugs and pints of Guinness.
If this really is the last night of the world then I want it to be a grand party because that is how life should be. I want to celebrate the 26 years I have had without the threat of war. I want to live in the present with fond memories of the past and lots of hope for the future. I want to somehow take the fear of the unknown sitting in the pit of my stomach and morph it into tranquility so I can sleep for the first time in weeks – peacefully. I want to be surrounded by those I love and I want them to know that I did what I wanted to do in this world. I have no regrets and the time I had here was a blessing, not a right. If this is it then I leave with peace in my heart because I woke up every morning free to do as I pleased; graduated college, ran 2 marathons, wrote everyday, traveled to different countries, traveled in our own beautiful country, loved and was loved and had true friends scattered around the world that I could count on at any time in my life.
In high school it was a game, but tonight as I celebrate a different kind of last night of the world tradition and I finally realize what our tradition meant. Any day could be your last and it should be celebrated; it should be lived. That’s what I plan on doing tonight as my last night in the States for 7 months – enjoying and living it like every other day of my life.
Hey Libby, its Sara. I miss you so much. I hope I will see you at Tipton this year and my family and I hope you will be safe and will keep you and the rest of your family (especially Becca and Megan) in our prayers. Andy (Becca’s friend) will be playing the Marines Hymn for you tomarrow and also as a solo at solo and ensemble. He is doing it for your honor. We will all keep you in our minds while you are gone for 7 months. We all miss you and hope to see you soon Bye.
Sara Neville
Libs,
I didn’t know we were all called “The Ma’am.”
Your writing is beautiful, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize just how much until now. I’m looking forward to reading all you have to say.
I love you, and I miss you. Stay safe, and stay happy. Before you know it, we’ll be back to being regular, beautiful women . . . with a few stories to tell.
All my love,
Beth
Oh, Libby. You sound like you’re doing great. I’m feeling extremely nostalgic as I’m reading this. Okay, not really nostalgic, but something like nostalgia… more like all of a sudden I’ve realized that people my age (including me and certainly including you) are doing things that actually _mean_ something now. I also (perhaps strangely) feel very proud of you after reading this. Good luck in Iraq, Libby. I promise to think of you often.
Bethany
I don’t think we ever really spoke to one another at school. I’m a Citron and you’re a something that isn’t a Citron… so we probably just mixed in different circles.
Anyone who does know me, knows that I’m the furthest thing from sentimental… so if you should suffer an upchuck urge from reading this (of what I hope will be many) posts on this blog, know that while it may seem sugary… it’s honest.
I really admire what you’re doing. I’m 26 as well, and have found myself looking back lately on friends I’ve lost to time… and the various versions of me that have been lost with them. I live in my own little world most days… and so it was utterly refreshing, if a little jarring, to read your blog, and realize how paltry my fears are compared to some. You are doing something that I would never have the courage to do. I’m not a desert kinda guy.
I’m sure you’ve had tons of people who you actually know say things far more meaningful to you in the past few weeks… but for what it’s worth: Come home safe. Write a kickass book. And if I ever bump into you in the real life… I’ll spring for a pint of Guinness.
Keep your head down.
-Andrew