Once more into the breach

"Breach!" our guide shouts, and ahead and to the right, I see the last thing in the world I
expected to see: an animal the size of a bus throwing itself out of the water and spinning
in the air like a football before crashing back into the sea.

"We don't know why humpback whales breach," says the guide, a woman with long brown
hair and kind eyes who has probably recited this speech ninety-six times this summer.
"It may be a method of cleaning barnacles from their hide. It could be a signal to other
whales. We've observed that humpbacks sometimes breach when groups of them are
breaking up."

And that makes sense, I think, since I've been doing the same thing all weekend. I've been
throwing myself into -- well, into everything: go-kart races, the movies, an ill-considered
(but nevertheless welcome) bout of drinking with my brother and cousins -- because I
know things are about to change, whether or not I'm ready for them.

School is beginning -- it began last week, but no one, especially teachers, takes seriously
anything that happens before Labor Day. I'm already resisting the need to get up before
eight o'clock in the morning, to live my life regimented by bells, to have to decide whether to
run or study or write or spend the evening talking with my friends -- because I can no longer
do all of these things. Next week, when I begin teaching my college course, things will
become even busier.

Other, subtler changes are taking place: my best friend is preparing to move to the
godforsaken wilderness of Wisconsin, my oldest cousin is heading for the altar, which
means my brother may be soon to follow; and I am coming to the point where I have to
stop toying with and talking about changes in my life and actually do something about it.
It's scary stuff. I'm not a big fan of change, even if I was one of the few who enjoyed the
"new Coke." I'd rather fling myself into the ocean, frankly.

Still, change is exciting. I saw it in the eyes of one of my friends Friday night. He defended
his doctoral thesis last week, moved out of his apartment this weekend, and is preparing
to move to Baltimore and begin a new life.

"It finally hit me," he said, as he stuffed another cardboard box into his car. "My life is
changing. I'm not going to be doing the same thing any more. I have no idea where I'm
going to live, how I'm going to find a place, what it's going to cost... and I love this feeling."

I know what he means. I think I even know why whales launch themselves out of the ocean,
though our whale-watching guide probably would've given me a tired smile if I mentioned it:

Because they can.