This morning started out not unlike any other morning. I woke to the sound of the French radio station, only half-understanding what was being said and groggily hit the snooze button 3 times before forcing myself from slumber. I showered, and after, sat clumsily in my bathrobe while checking my email. Inbox (2): nothing new. I glanced over at my clock and realised I only had 30 minutes left to get ready.

Today I put on make-up. I wear it very seldom so it felt strange and almost foreign on my face. Today I wore heels. I wear them very seldom. Walking in them, I didn't wobble, but I felt unsteady. As I stood in my kitchen fixing breakfast, 1 and a half inches taller, I felt like everything around me had shrunk overnight. But I somehow felt different beyond the pore-clogging cosmetics and uncomfortable shoes.

I got on the bus leaving campus. It felt bizarre sitting nearly completely alone on the deserted bus bound outward. I was, after some reflection, reminded of Emily Dickinson: “The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.”

I think, of all things, it was the sound of my heels on the sidewalk. I was reminded of elementary school and teachers who had left the classroom. When we heard that familiar clopping of female shoes coming down the hallway, we knew it had to be the teacher and scurried back to our seats. I didn't feel like a teacher in that moment, but I felt like someone finally worthy of scaring off the little ones with the click of my heels.

With that thought in mind, I walked self-assured into the photography studio. Within minutes, I was overwhelmed with the sudden sense of change. I was no longer the same person; I somehow felt like I had finally stepped out of my role as a developing adult and into being a woman. I embraced my eventuality with the pinning of the graduation robe. It was such a cheesy, unsuspecting symbolic act, but it changed by entire outlook on life.

Why hadn't it happened for me in high school? I suppose I just didn't take my high school diploma very seriously, knowing that I still had at least 4 more years of school to go. It didn't feel like I had achieved anything or passed a particularly proud milestone.

Four years. Where did they go? I swear it was only six months ago that I was standing in the doorway to a shared dorm room for the first time. I swear that just six months ago I was asking for directions to Buchanon. I swear just six months ago I was 18 and had stars in my eyes knowing that the whole world was ripe and mine for the taking.

Four years. Even though I feel like they have passed in less than six months, I also feel like I am 41 instead of 21. My soul has grown old. Not in the walking-cane-and-false-teeth sense of “old,” but being wise and full of knowledge.

I stepped out of the clothing of a younger me today. Like shedding skin, except now I need to find something new to cover myself with. It's almost like a rebirth.

The thought of an unknown future is both frightening and exhilarating. Positively everything is a possibility. I suppose, as the stars in my eyes faded gradually after first year and my decisions set me down a hallway with few exits, the last door at the end, brought the stars back in their full and shining glory.

I am a woman. Everything is ripe and mine for the taking. I am an old soul. I am naked and know nothing. I am wearing the face and heels of a new woman I have never met before. I am scared, but I am not alone.

I am going somewhere. I don't know where, but I am going there with sea legs and a new-found swing to my hips.