As I was walking out of my Survey of Jazz exam yesterday, I had a thought that stopped me dead.

That was the last midterm I would ever take in my undergraduate career. And I didn’t even realize that until it was over.

I’m not real big on countdowns, as I’ve been experimenting with this whole ‘live in the moment’ notion that I picked up in Granada, but the fact that I’m graduating in just a few short weeks kinda flipped that around for me a little bit. I started mentally tallying all the lasts that I had or hadn’t missed, and counting the number of days that I had left. How long until I took my last Buzzfeed quiz with my copy desk? How much time until April Fool’s Day, when (hilariously enough) I have to present my thesis at the Undergraduate Research Symposium? And speaking of, how long until that thing is due? When’s my last workshop due for class? The last Utes baseball game? What day does my little brother graduate from high school? How long until my own commencement ceremony?

(The answer to the last one is 34 days, including today, by the way, if anyone else is keeping track.)

And I’m not going to lie, I got scared. Every day that passes by brings me one day closer to being “free” — free from essays written in a panic the night before they’re due, from the obligation of going to class, from caring about my GPA and having to attend scholar’s group meetings. But it brings me closer to a different set of manacles: that of what’s considered “real life.” A life that consists of a nine-to-five “real” job with my own set of bills and no longer being able to ride TRAX for free. Yeah, I’m getting out of busy-work homework assignments and the stress of finals week and the hell that is buying textbooks, but I’m losing the certainty that I’ll be seeing the group of friends I’ve literally grown up with in the fall.

And the longer I sat and stewed about the drastic life change that’s right around the corner, the more I realized that was what I was going to miss the most. I’m thrilled about the freedom of getting off of work at 5 p.m., as I’m lucky to have a job already set up after graduation, and not having to work around nine different schedules to set up a time to complete a group project. What I’m dreading is losing the community — the circle of friends with whom I can stay out until 3 in the morning at Village Inn eating pie, or hitting up the bars on a Tuesday night 20 minutes before last call and doing double shots of tequila just because we can. I’m going to miss my best friend, who’s just bought her one-way ticket out of Salt Lake City, and knowing that we’ll never be standing elbow to elbow in the MUSS screaming for Wilson to throw the ball, already. I’m going to miss all the friends I’ve made these last four years, because they are the most quality individuals I’ve ever had the privilege to meet, even when we’re wearing sweatpants and using the word ratchet to describe our lives. I’m going to miss BYU-Utah football games and PDC concerts and running my hands through my hair and yelling that there is no way I can finish this by tomorrow. I’m going to miss all of it.

But I’m sure as hell going to enjoy my last 34 days of being a Ute, because it’s been the best four years of my life.