Every morning, whether it be before school or on a sleepy Saturday, I brew a pot of coffee. And in every sense, it is the perfect brew, with four scoops of dark roast flavored with heavy shakes of cinnamon. I can’t go a single morning without my cup of heaven, and what some may call a coffee addiction, I call a beloved ritual and routine.

This Saturday morning was no different than the rest. Sitting amidst a peaceful and restful silence, I sipped my coffee.

I think back on the past few weeks, remembering the beautiful whirlwind of commotion. I take another sip.

I remember how at the beginning of the year, I was almost apprehensive. As a senior finally entering in my graduation year, I jumble of mixed emotions, all tangled and twisted around. The second semester signals the beginning of the end for my high school career, and yet, it doesn’t feel real. Many milestones have yet to occur, from school dances to my last few high school races and runs. It’s a weird feeling of bittersweet longing to know that you’ve been prepared to leave for a while but also that you don’t want to leave the “goodness” you’ve finally found for something new.

My coffee warms my heart as I bring the mug to my mouth and taste the strong, clear taste.

It feels like it’s been so long since exams, even though in reality, they were only a week or so ago. After the calm “ice days” we experienced during exam week, we returned to a chaotic madness that was nearly unbearable to sit back and watch. Between stressed students with an insatiable checklist of unanswerable questions and overly relaxed students who already committed to “taking the L” on exams, it was quite a hodgepodge of perspectives.

With exams now over with though, attention immediately turned to the upcoming Winterfest dance, with every girl scheming about how to ask someone, who to ask, and who their group would be. Hushed but excited whispers filling the occasional classroom silences made these past few weeks just short of thrilling, despite its short-lived significance. Regardless, the flurry of sparkly dresses, crazy asks, and cute pictures indicate a promising Winterfest for all on Feb. 16.

I shake my head, thinking back at all the intense excitements and drink my coffee again as I reminisce some more.

I finally got around to watching a home basketball game, of course arriving late because when am I not? It hit me there that in my whole high school career, I’ve only been to a total of two basketball games, one being coached by Mr. George and one being coached by Mr. Carhart. That may be my biggest regret of high school: not going to more sporting events to watch students lead FHC towards a win. Fortunately for me, my vague keeping up with sports has been managed through reading FHC’s Sports Report whose reporters, in spite of insane schedules, always make the time to write incredible recaps and stories about the sports scene at FHC, never ceasing to impress me with their diligence.

I go to take another sip of coffee, only to find my cup empty, thus interrupting my thoughts. I pause, then sit up. Looking out the windows at the pristine scene of blue skies and crisp snow, I walk back to the kitchen to pour another cup of my signature brew, smiling as I think of the promising semester ahead of FHC.