One week ago I passed a major milestone in my life — I finished school.

Of course, I’ve done this before. A few years ago there was the big graduation ceremony, plump with pomp and circumstance. It was a day filled with congratulations, hugs, goodbyes, photos, parties. And then next semester, without skipping a beat, I was right back in the classroom. Whoopity-doo!

This time around there was a handshake after my final, a quick moment of levity with a professor I’ve come to know well, and a stroll down a dark, quiet sidewalk in the chilly December air. An ending that was unspectacular in every way save the unusual lightness of my steps thanks to the awesome burden suddenly lifted from my shoulders.

The difference this time around is that I’m not going back. For the first time in my life I’m really done with school, at least for the foreseeable future. I’m a Master now (of what, I’m not sure). This great task of preparation, of which I’ve been working for nearly all of my life, is over. I’ve been anointed and graduated. Now it’s time to get busy living.